Damages
by MollyMayhem84
Summary: Daryl Dixon never thought he would get out alive. And he definitely never thought that she, in the middle of a zombie apocalypse, would be the one to save him. Now, two people from his past return and threaten to destroy everything he has worked so hard for. The damages keep adding up and the group is buckling under the weight. Changed the rating to T.
1. Prologue Part One

_A/N: I know! I have not finished The Archer's Bows Have Broken, in fact it has barely started, so why am I starting this one? Alas, I am a creature of impulse and I feel I need to start writing this before I lose the inspiration to do so. I am attempting to write "romantic type chapters", again, no smut, sorry if that's your thing. And I hope to not make them super cheesy. To those who read my other fic: Have no fear, I will continue to write the other one as well. :)_

**Prologue Part One:**

Daryl Dixon slowed his old 1973 Chevy pick-up and put it in park. He'd have to walk from here if he wanted to ensure he wouldn't be heard. He hopped out of the truck, willing himself to calm down. It was disarming to him that after all this time, one year exactly, he still got butterflies. He smirked to himself, Merle would have had a goddamn field day to see his little brother all googley-eyed like Daryl was. He was certain that Merle would scoff in disgust how "Dixons don't get pussy-whipped" or whatever other ridiculous notion that popped in his head when it came to interacting with the opposite sex.

For the first time in his life, Daryl didn't care what his brother had to say about anything. Sure, he supposed part of that could be due to the fact that Merle had been locked up for the past 18 months for drug possession. Or was it B and E? It was hard to keep Merle's delinquencies straight. Daryl supposed that in his 18 years of being Merle's brother, he's probably only known him for 8 or 9 of them. It didn't matter anymore, for the past year, Daryl had someone who actually _chose_ to be with him and damn it all, _enjoyed_ it to.

As far as he was concerned, Daryl Dixon was the luckiest man in this podunk North Georgia town. He paused as he approached the picturesque white house, all the lights were out, except one on the second floor. It really was something out of a movie. The white two story house had a wrap around porch, and light blue shutters on the windows. All the houses on the street were impeccable, with meticulously maintained lawns and gardens. It definitely wasn't the part of town the likes of him came from. Where he lived, lawn-tractors were meant for the sole purpose of souping up the engines and racing them down the street while the neighbours all stood around watching in their white undershirts, smoking cigarettes and drinking beer.

Daryl bent down and grabbed a handful of small stones from the white gravel driveway. He walked over the to the sprawling willow tree that was located conveniently in front of the illuminated window and took aim. The first stone hit its mark. Daryl waited, ducking behind the massive tree trunk. When no one came, he threw another stone and another, listening for the plinking sound that told him he made contact. Finally, he saw a shadow approach the window and smirked as he watched the figure wrestle with the stubborn window pane.

After a few moments, the window relented and he saw the most beautiful girl in town, hell, Daryl would argue that she was the most beautiful girl in the entire State, pop her head out and wave at him. Gabby Flanery was a stunner, to put it mildly. As far as he was concerned, the dictionary used her name as a reference to the word "perfection". Her long, mahogany coloured hair fell in soft waves down to the middle of her back, in perfect contrast to her porcelain skin and striking gray eyes. Her lips were full and impossibly red, even though he had never seen her wear lipstick. And she had a dancer's body, with legs that went for miles despite her 5'4 frame. Daryl was a lucky man, indeed.

He watched as one of the legs that drove him absolutely wild swung out of the window sill, followed by the other. Gabby expertly maneuvered herself onto the roof of the porch and grabbed the sturdy willow branch. Daryl held his breath nervously. Watching Gabby scale down the tree always scared the hell out of him, even though it was an art she had long since perfected in their one year together. It was a big problem for Earl Flanery, Gabby's father, that she had started "running around with that no-good backwoods trash" so they had to take to sneaking around to spend time together. This unfortunately meant that they could not go on "real" dates to the town's movie theatre or even to one of the small restaurants for dinner out of fear of being spotted. The problem with a small town was nobody ever learned to mind their own damn business.

Daryl braced himself as Gabby's lithe figure dangled from the lowest branch. She wore jean cut offs (he swore she knew exactly what she was doing when she dressed for their dates) and a black Pearl Jam t-shirt. He reached up and wrapped his arms around her legs. "I gotcha," he whispered. He felt her let go of the branch and he slowly loosened his grip, allowing Gabby to slide down until her feet were firmly on the ground. She kept her arms wrapped around his neck.

"Hi gorgeous," he grinned, his hands resting on her small waist.

...

Daryl pulled up to the secluded spot at the lake. His and Gabby's spot. Turning off the ignition and hopping out of the truck, he made his way around to the passenger side. Gabby had learned long ago that if she had thwarted Daryl's chivalry by not allowing to help her out of the truck, he would brood about it for the precious few hours they had to spend together. It broke her heart to think how much he tortured himself with the ridiculous idea that she was too good to hang around the likes of him. Something, or someone had ensured that Daryl felt he was worthless. Her father's reaction when he found out they were seeing each other hadn't helped much either, she remembered bitterly. It didn't matter how much she cried and begged, her father was determined that Daryl would end up the same as his brother Merle, messed up on drugs and in and out of prison and promptly forbidden her to continue seeing him.

She knew Daryl was aware of the stigma that surrounded him on account of being related to the notorious Merle Dixon. She knew how hard Daryl fought to separate himself from the shadow cast by his older brother. He wouldn't touch drugs, despite hanging out with a crowd that was pretty much the town's cartel; although she knew it was more out of obligation, as they were associated with Merle. Daryl was adamant that his relationship with the town's "bad guys" was imperative for the safety of Merle, who often was the "fall guy" for the group.

"Why, thank you," Gabby said sweetly, as the passenger door opened. She grabbed Daryl's out stretched hand and hopped down from the truck.

Daryl went to the back of the truck and pulled down the tailgate and waved her over. She hadn't noticed when she'd gotten in the truck, but Daryl had laid out a bedspread in the flatbed of the truck. In the centre of the blanket, was a small white cooler. "What is this, Dixon?" She asked, turning to face him.

Daryl grinned sheepishly as he hopped up on the flatbed. He reached down and grabbed Gabby's hands and pulled her up after him. She sat down on the blanket, crossing her legs underneath her, as Daryl busied himself with the cooler. She watched as he pulled out two cellophane wrapped sandwiches and a bottle of wine. "The clerk is scared ta ID me on account of me being Merle's brother," Daryl admitted, holding up the bottle. "It ain't the fancy stuff, but it ain't bad." He retrieved a small swiss army knife from his pocket, and pulled out the corkscrew attachment.

"This is amazing, Daryl," Gabby said sincerely.

"No, it ain't. Wish I could do more. You deserve -" Daryl was cut off the kiss planted firmly on his mouth. He fumbled as he pulled out the corkscrew, and cursed as the red liquid sloshed out of the top of the bottle. Gabby stifled a giggle and took a swig from the wine bottle that Daryl handed to her.

"Well, good thing you can drink outa the bottle 'cause I forgot the glasses," Daryl admitted, handing her one of the sandwiches. Gabby wiped her mouth as wine trickled out of the side of her mouth. "I take that back."

Gabby laughed and swatted him as he brought the bottle to his lips and took a drink. "Ow, woman! I damn near knocked out my teeth!"

Gabby, fumbled shyly with the cellophane on her sandwich. "Um, Daryl?"

Daryl grunted through a mouthful of peanut butter and grape jelly.

"I wanted to say this before I had too much wine..." Gabby began. Daryl quirked an eyebrow at her as he washed down his sandwich with another mouthful of wine. "I think...I'm ready."

Daryl choked and sputtered, wiping his mouth on his flannel sleeve. "What?"

Gabby felt her face grow hot. "Oh, don't make me say it again," she pleaded, burying her face in her hands. She reached for the bottle of wine and took a long pull and avoided Daryl's gaze.

"Ya sure?" Daryl asked her, blushing in spite of himself.

Gabby nodded and buried her face in her arms.

...

Gabby rolled onto her side and lightly traced one of the long, angry looking scars on Daryl's chest. She had asked him before what caused them, but he would always tell her the same thing: "You're way too pretty to be burdened with something so ugly." She never pressed the issue, figuring that when Daryl was ready to tell her, he would. He had already come so far in their time together. To the rest of the world, Daryl was abrasive, hot-tempered and unrefined. To Gabby, he was sweet, gentle and loving, he was "her Daryl Dixon," the way he was when they were together was reserved only for her eyes, and she felt blessed. She knew it was love. She had tried to express it before to Daryl, but he had panicked and ran off hunting for days on end when did. She supposed she should have been hurt by his reaction, but deep down, she knew he felt the same way, he was just too damaged to know how to handle it.

Daryl reached over and started playing with a lock of Gabby's hair. God, her hair smelled good. It smelled faintly of coconut and some type of flower. He smirked as he thought of Merle's horrified expression, if he ever found out that Daryl was trying to dissect what type of flower his girl's hair smelled like. His girl. He liked the way that sounded. He leaned down and gently laid a kiss on Gabby's forehead and closed his eyes as he felt the pull of sleep wash over him. A few minutes couldn't hurt, right?

...

"Shit, shit, shit! Daryl, wake up!"

Daryl mumbled and winced as the bright light stung his eyes. He must have forgotten to close the blinds in his room, again. He groaned and turned over. He felt something soft land on his face. "Daryl! We fell asleep!" Daryl's eyes flew open as realization swept over him.

"Oh shit," he swore, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from his eyes. He saw Gabby frantically pull her Pearl Jam t-shirt of her head and button up her jean shorts. She was collecting Daryl's clothes and tossing them at him.

"My daddy is gonna kill me!" Gabby cried, her voice shrill. She tried desperately to smooth down her hair. Daryl yanked his shirt over his head and jumped down from the flat bed. Out of habit, he had reached for Gabby's hand to help her down, but she ignored him and leapt off the truck with a soft thud as her sneakers made contact with the ground. Daryl slammed the tail gate and hurried to the driver door.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to fall asleep," Daryl said as he turned the ignition. He heard a click. "Oh no. Don't you fucking do this to me now, goddammit!" He turned it again to no avail. He swore loudly and pounded the steering wheel with his fists in frustration. "Goddamn piece of shit."

"It won't start?" Gabby demanded, her voice taking on a hysterical edge.

"Fuckin' battery is dead," Daryl moaned burying his face in his arms. "We're gonna hafta walk a ways and see if we can find someone to gimme a boost."

"How did this happen?" Gabby asked.

Daryl chewed his thumbnail, a habit of his when he was nervous or pensive. "I musta left the dome light on when I went into the glovebox to find...well...you know," he mumbled sheepishly.

Gabby blushed and reached over and squeezed his hand reassuringly. "Well, Dixon, if today is going to be my last day on earth, I'm glad I spent my last night with you."

"Shit, don't go gettin' all mushy on me," Daryl retorted, his face an impressive shade of scarlet. Inwardly, his heart was leaping for joy, and that scared the hell out of him.

...


	2. Prologue Part Two

_A/N: Ugh...Did I make the first part too cheeseball? I'm trying to make Daryl still true to the character on the show, but again it takes a series of events to make a man as broken as that - as badass as he is, he is truly a tragic, broken man - and I hope to accurately portray some of the events that have fucked him up so badly._

**Prologue Part Two: **

_Nobody said it was easy_

_It's such a shame for us to part_

_Nobody said it was easy_

_No one ever said it would be this hard_

_Oh, take me back to the start_

_- The Scientist, Coldplay_

"Well, let's get to 'er, then," Daryl sighed, opening the creaking driver's door. He made his way around the front of the truck, pausing to give the front bumper a swift kick. Gabby, opened her door and hopped out before Daryl could get there, sticking her tongue out at him playfully. "You little shit," Daryl growled, swatting her butt gently. Gabby shrieked and trotted away, giggling.

The sound of tires crunching on gravel drew their attention to the lane way that led to the lake, causing them to pause. "Oh no!" Gabby gasped as a black Ford sedan came into view. "How did he know? This is so bad."

The car came to to a stop and the door opened. "You goddamn sonuvabitch!" Earl Flanery leapt out of the driver's seat and stalked over to Daryl.

"Daddy, stop!" Gabby pleaded, grabbing at the older man's arm. Her father pushed past her, and grabbed Daryl by the front of his shirt and shoved him against the old Chevy truck.

In any other situation, anyone who dared to lay his hands on Daryl, with the exception of Merle, would have been picking his teeth up out of the dirt. Especially when his attacker was an sweaty, red-faced, middle-age balding guy, but he couldn't lose control. He clenched his jaw and stared at the older man defiantly. He may not be swinging at him, but he sure as hell was going to ensure he wasn't no goddamn coward.

"I oughta kill you," Mr. Flanery spat, his face inches from Daryl's. "You honestly think that you _belong_ with my daughter? Son, she is way out of your league, and it's about time you realized it. How long you been sneaking around? I had to find out from my daughter's friend about you two!"

Daryl relaxed slightly as he realized the older man's anger was coming down with every word he spoke. He really couldn't blame Mr. Flanery for being pissed. Hell, if Daryl had a teenaged daughter who had snuck out and spent the night with some guy, he sure as well wouldn't be having a conversation with the the fucker right now. Little bastard would probably be staring up the barrel of a 12 gauge shot gun, if the situation was reversed. Daryl smiled slightly at the thought.

"WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU SMIRKING AT, YOU LITTLE ASSHOLE?" Mr. Flanery screamed.

Shit. Daryl hadn't meant to smile. He really couldn't help it. Growing up with Merle as an older brother, as absent as he was, made him immune to confrontation. In fact, Daryl would often think of other things while Merle pinned him down and used his face as a punching bag. And if it wasn't Merle, it was his drunk ass father. Daryl learned very young to swallow him pain. He refused to give his father the satisfaction of knowing how agonizing every blow from his belt was. So, he'd mentally remove himself from the situation and flash the biggest smile he could muster and stand defiantly and take every last lashing. He knew it had incensed his father, causing him to hit harder and harder, his feet leaving the ground as he brought the belt down across Daryl's torso. One particularly painful incident was when his father had decided to hit Daryl with the buckle side of the belt. He felt the brass slice into the flesh that stretched over his ribs. That one had almost made him cry out, but Daryl Dixon was no pussy, he couldn't afford to be.

"You filthy piece of redneck, backwoods trash! You worthless piece of shit!" Mr. Flanery leaned into Daryl. "You're not going to amount to anything, just like your jailbird brother, your drunk of a father. Hell, s'no wonder why your momma turned to the bottle and got herself killed. If I had two worthless piece of shit sons, I'd have lit myself on fire, too!"

Well, that did it. Daryl faintly heard Gabby screaming as he lunged at the older man, catching him by surprise. He planted a knee on Mr. Flanery's chest and brought his fist down. With the first blow his felt the cartilage in Mr. Flanery's nose give. He should have stopped there, but he couldn't. His momma was the only good memory Daryl had of his childhood. He remembered how she would throw herself in front of Daryl, trying to protect him from his father's rage. Out of him and Merle there was something about Daryl that seemed to piss off his old man just by the look of him. Daryl would come home from school and his father would be drunk out of his skull, waiting with belt in hand to beat the shit out of him. His momma would try and block Daryl from harm, but his father would just shove her aside, grab Daryl by the arm and drag him to the living room, his momma screaming and crying the whole time as Daryl received his punishment.

Daryl felt a fist connect with his jaw. Damn, Mr. Flanery could pack a punch. Daryl could taste the sickly metallic blood in his mouth. He raised his arm for another blow and felt someone jump on his back. He flailed and swung his elbow, feeling it connect with his target. The yelp that followed stopped him dead. It was Gabby. He looked behind and watched as as her hands flew up to her cheek. Her tear-filled eyes wide in shock as she staggered backwards. Mr. Flanery landed another punch and managed to shoved Daryl off of him.

Daryl was too horrified to speak. The fight was forgotten as a battered and bloodied Mr. Flanery staggered over to his daughter. Daryl could see the red welt spreading across her cheek and felt sick. "You piece of shit. You stay the hell away from my daughter!" Mr. Flanery shrieked, wrapping a protective arm around Gabby, who was sobbing hysterically. Daryl watched silently as Gabby was lead towards the black car. She glanced back at him, with the same look a struck puppy would give its abuser and disappeared behind the tinted windows.

...

_Sorry it was not a very long chapter, I had originally planned to make it longer, but felt it was much more poignant to end it like this. I hope you like it, let me know either way! And if anyone reads my other story, I will try and update it as soon as possible. For some reason, I am really struggling to write it._


	3. Chapter One: Jesus Christ

_I have no idea what the response is to this story, but if you're reading and enjoying, thank you._

_IF YOU ARE NOT CAUGHT UP WITH THE SERIES AND **HAVE NOT WATCHED THE SEASON 3 MIDSEASON FINALE** DO NOT CONTINUE READING! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!_

**Chapter One: Jesus Christ**

_Well, Jesus Christ, I'm not scared to die,  
I'm a little bit scared of what comes after  
Do I get the gold chariot?  
Do I float through the ceiling?_

_Do I divide and fall apart?_  
_'cause my bright is too slight to hold back all my dark_  
_And the ship went down in sight of land_  
_And at the gates does Thomas ask to see my hands_

_- Jesus Christ, Brand New_

"Kill them!"

"To the death!"

Daryl's chest heaved with every panicked gasp of air. His heart was pounding as he desperately scoured his surroundings for a way out. His brother Merle, had been disarmed and was shunted into the middle of the crowd next to him. It was then that Daryl was hit with the sickening realization of what was supposed to happen.

He was to fight his brother to the death in some barbaric gladiator type event in front of an angry mob. He started for his brother and stopped. There was no safety with Merle. There never was.

He thought back to when he was 6 years old, when his brother and his friends invited him out with them to shoot their BB guns in the woods behind their house. He was elated, trotting behind them, trying desperately to keep up. He'd never been included before, and maybe, just maybe, Merle would let him shoot his gun! After what seemed like miles, they stopped at a small clearing. There were rusted and dented old cans that were used for target practice littering the ground by a tree stump. Trembling with anticipation, he watched as the older boys filled their guns with the small pellets, he hoped that Merle would let him try shooting. They were laughing at something, Daryl must have missed the joke. Suddenly, Daryl was looking up the barrels of 6 BB guns.

"You got 10 seconds, kid," one of the older boys said, grinning wickedly. Daryl stared at them, confused. Their guns didn't move from their aim. He started to whimper, terrified.

"You'd better start running Darylina," Merle advised, grimly. Daryl turned and started running. He screamed as a sharp pain hit his backside. Tears freely streaming down his face, he ran as fast as his little legs would carry him. Screeching in agony with every painful shot that hit him. When he got close to his house, the older boys ceased their chase and Daryl ran into his house sobbing and bleeding.

He thought back to the beating he got from his father afterwards, for bleeding on the carpet and waking him up from his drunken nap.

Daryl shook his head, the yelling from the crowd drowned out any plans of escape he might have had. He felt the hot tears burning his eyelids, but he'd be damned if he let one fall. He wouldn't give the fuckers the satisfaction. He tried to wriggle his wrists free, but it was futile, whoever bound him knew what they were doing.

This was the day that Daryl was going to die. He thought of Rick, hoping against all probability that his leader, his friend, no, his _brother, _was biding his time waiting for his opportunity to strike. He quickly banished that idea to the back of his mind. Rick wasn't coming. He had to worry about Glenn and Maggie. Hell, they were probably halfway back to the SUV before they realized he was missing. He couldn't risk losing more men on the account of him. Rick was a man of calculated risks, and this one didn't add up.

Daryl dropped to his knees in defeat. Daryl, "the survivor", the Bear Grylls of the group, according to Glenn, who had to explain to him who the hell that was, was going to die tonight.

...

She was tired and stressed. James Braddock and Travis Fuller had come running up to her, saying the town was under attack by bandits and they needed access to the weapons stores. This wasn't protocol. Phillip Blake, or The Governor, as he insisted everyone call him, had strict rules over the weapons stores and who had access to them, and under no circumstances was she ever to break protocol. Ever.

"Do you have the code word?" She asked, feeling slightly ridiculous. It reminded of her of grade school children starting an exclusive club that can only be accessed by the correct password.

She heard the terrifying sound of gunshots and paled, they were under attack. Unnecessary noise was forbidden in the town, especially at night, guns were a last resort. "Jesus Christ!" She gasped, fishing the key out of her pocket. It fell out of her trembling hands.

"C'mon Gabs!" Travis urged.

She scrambled for the key and jammed it in the padlock. She heard the satisfying click and wrench the lock open and pulled open the doors to the basement. The two men ran downstairs. She swore under her breath. She was going to hear about this later. There were inventory audits every week, conducted by The Governor himself, and if her count was wrong, she was in a world of shit.

She heard the thumping of boots coming up the stairs. "I marked it down for ya, Gabby," Travis said, patting the duffel bag. He leaned down and gave her a quick peck on the lips and followed James through the front door of the supply house.

"Be safe!" Gabby Fuller called after her husband.

...

Gabby cocked the pistol and aimed it at the door as it swung open. She relaxed when she saw Travis appear in the doorway. "Oh thank God!" She cried flinging herself into his arms. "They're gone, baby," he said. "The Governor wants the whole town to meet at the arena, got somethin' important to say."

Gabby made a face. She hated the arena. She hated what went on in the arena. It was barbaric, unsafe and she had forbidden Travis to participate in it. It was bad enough he would go and watch and cheer with the rest of the town. She refused to have any part of it. "Why aren't we going to the town hall? That is where we usually have our meetings..."

Travis shrugged. "Beats me, I got stuck with the job of going door-to-door and warning everyone we were under attack," he said, with a hint of bitterness. Travis had wanted desperately to become a part of the town's elite squad; the ones who would go out scouting for supplies, who were relied on most for the protection of the town. He tried time and time again to prove himself to the Governor. He became hopeful when he was promoted to "wall duty" a few weeks ago. Although, allowing a group of bandits to sneak in on his watch, probably wasn't going to help his case at all.

Gabby sighed. "Okay. Let me lock up."

...

The arena was aglow with the yellow-orange light from the fire barrels and kerosene lanterns. The townspeople where talking over each other, confused and scared. Parents were comforting their crying children. This was their haven. The Governor and his troops have fortified this town impeccably. It withstood herds of hundreds of biters. This was their fortress. It was hard to believe that a small handful of bandits managed to slip past the armed guards.

Gabby and Travis made their way to the bleachers, hand in hand. A chill ran up Gabby's spine, despite the warmth of night air. Her husband put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a reassuring squeeze. A hush fell over the crowd as the Governor and a few of his highest ranking officers, including Merle Dixon, who coincidentally was the brother of her first "real" boyfriend. She remembered how excited she was when she was introduced to him, she was sure Daryl was with him. But after hearing his story of being abandoned in Atlanta by the group he was staying with, her heart broke. She hadn't seen Daryl since she was 17 and they hadn't parted on the best of terms.

Gabby gasped at the sight of the bloodied piece of gauze covering The Governor's eye. He scanned the crowd sombrely and began his address:

"What can I say? Hasn't been a night like this since the wall was completed, and I thought we were past that. Past the days when we all sat, huddled, scared in front of the TV, during the early days of the outbreak. The fear we all felt then, we felt it again tonight. I failed you, I promised to keep you safe. Hell, look at me. You know, I—I should tell you we'll be OK, that we're safe. Tomorrow, we bury our dead and endure, but I won't. I can't."

The Governor paused, allowing the crowd to digest the information before continuing.

"Because I'm afraid. That's right. I'm afraid of terrorists who want what we have. Want to detour us! Or worse, because one of these terrorist is our own, Merle, the man I counted on, Merle. He let them in. You lied. You betrayed us all," The Governor stared accusingly at Merle Dixon, who was stripped of his guns and his bayonet hand.

Gabby was numb. She watched as Merle's expression went from deathly sober to shocked - white, eyes wide. The crowd erupted in shocked gasps, and the rumbling as they began talking over each other grew louder and louder. Gabby sat shaking her head, there was no way Merle was in on this. He was The Governor's right hand man, his most trusted ally. Her attention was turned to a figure being lead in to the arena, his arms were bound and a cloth bag was over his head.

The Governor captured the crowd's attention once again. "This is one of the terrorists. Merle's own brother. So what should we do with them?"

...

_This will probably be the only time I directly quote the show. There was no avoiding it. Anyways, thanks to those who have followed and favourited! If you can suggest any improvements, PM or Review!_


	4. Chapter Two: The Escape

_A/N: If you like my story, or hate it. Give me a review...feed my precious ego. Or crush it. Whichever. And in case you haven't noticed, I am not sure what I am doing about a certain useless blonde character from the show, whose name may or may not rhyme with Mandrea, why oh why couldn't they write her more true to her comic book self. And writing my OC as a resident of Woodbury is really quite difficult as I am trying really hard not to portray her as a dumbass! _

**Chapter 2: The Escape**

Gabby sat in stunned silence as she realized she was about to witness a public execution. She swallowed back the bile that burned her throat. The bag was ripped off of the bound man's head, confirming Gabby's fears. "No!" The sound came out of her mouth before she could stop it. The crowd had erupted, screaming for Merle and Daryl Dixon's deaths. She jumped to her feet, and felt a hand wrap around her arm. She whipped around and saw her husband Travis holding her back.

"This is wrong!" She screamed, jerking away from him. She had started towards The Governor, but was blocked by a burly black man whose name she didn't know with a crossbow. "Please!" She tried to step around the guard, but he followed her every movement. It was useless. Fighting back tears, Gabby took off from the arena. She would not allow herself to be a party to this.

With all the excitement, no one seemed to notice her departure from the arena. It was then that Gabby decided to go left, instead of right, to the supply house and not the one she shared with her husband and the Braddock family. With a quick glance around her, she fished the keys out of her shorts pockets and unlocked the door, slipping inside. It was dark in there, and it was unnerving. Even though the town was secure against biters, she still expected them to be behind every corner, lurking in every shadow. She fumbled on the shelf beside the door and found the small mag light. With a click, the fluorescent beam of light illuminated the path to the weapons stores. Being extremely careful to keep the beam of light trained on the floor and away from the windows, she unlocked the basement door and slipped quietly down the stairs.

The makeshift shelves were stocked full of artillery, the product of Merle Dixon and his elite squad's scavenging expeditions. With the mag light clenched securely in her teeth, she quickly grabbed two pistols and four of their corresponding clips and a box of shells. She loaded the pistols and ensured the safeties were on (she silently thanked her husband for teaching her how to handle guns), and stuffed them down the waistband of her shorts. The extra clips found their way into her back pockets, and after some thought, she forced the box of shells into the front of her bra. She turned to go up the stairs and stopped. On the shelves opposite from the small arms, was the heavy duty military fare. She scoured the shelves and found what she was looking for, the smoke grenades and the flash bangs. Grabbing two smoke grenades and a single flash bang, she ran up the stairs, praying to herself that she would make it on time.

She hadn't bothered locking up the storage house, she figured no matter if her quest to save Daryl and Merle was successful or not, she wouldn't be welcome at Woodbury any longer. Or maybe, she would meet the same fate as the Dixon brothers. Shuddering at the thought, she fumbled with the grenades as she clicked off the mag light and stuck it in her front pocket. She thought sadly of her husband. This would be the last night she would see him, but she couldn't allow two men to be slaughtered without so much as a trial. And pitting family against family? She had always felt somewhat uneasy about The Governor; how quickly he embraced his power over the people of Woodbury, but to allow such cruelty? Woodbury had been a safe haven for her for many months. It was a tight knit community and she knew the people were emotional, they were not thinking rationally. Which is why she had made up her mind to risk her own life to save the Dixons.

She made her way through the old warehouse that lead to the arena as stealthily as she could, her years as a professionally trained ballet and contemporary dancer allowed her to move quickly and gracefully, almost catlike as she maneuvered through the shadows. Everyone was focused on the pit. The yelling was still as loud as ever, reassuring Gabby that the brothers were still alive. With a steadying breath, she pulled the pin on the smoke grenade.

...

Daryl and Merle circled each other slowly, staring hard at each other desperately for a plan. Daryl's wrists stung from the tight ropes that had been tied around them. Angry red welts took their place. He could hear the crowd grow more and more restless. The sick fucks wanted their pound of flesh and were none too pleased that Merle and him weren't cooperating. The armed guards had their weapons trained on the brothers, including the large black man who had overpowered Daryl in the town. He had Daryl's very own Horton Scout crossbow aimed at him.

A shriek of horror seemed to temporarily silence the chants. White smoke started billowing around the middle of the pit. The relief that washed over Daryl was immediate. Rick _had_ come back. Panic swept over the crowd nearly instantaneously and Daryl made his move. Under the cover of the smoke and confusion he head butted the black guard in the face, stunning him. He grabbed for his crossbow, and after little resistance, it was his once again.

"Let's go!" A female voice cried frantically, grabbing his arm. _Maggie._ He yelled for Merle as he tried desperately to keep the dark figure in his sights through the blinding smoke. Finally they reached the clearing and Daryl stopped. The woman in front of his was shorter than Maggie, and her dark hair was longer. "Come on!" She hissed, whipping around.

"Gabby?!"

"Move it, Darylena," Merle barked, snapping Daryl out of his stupor. "There is an alleyway up here that leads to the fence. With luck, there won't be too many biters to deal with."


	5. Chapter Three: No Man's Land

_A/N: Thank you very much for the reviews! They really do help keep me motivated to keep writing. And for the those who have followed and favourited this story, I am humbled. And please, any suggestions to improve or story lines you'd like to see that I may not have thought of, please let me know!_

**Chapter Three: No Man's Land**

Daryl felt the splintered wood dig into his palms, the only non-calloused parts of his hands, as he leaped at the crudely erected wooden fence. Pulling himself up, he peeked over the edge. He dropped back down, the impact of the pavement under his worn soles sent jolts of discomfort shooting up to his lower back. He turned to face his brother and Gabby. Merle's face was unreadable, but Gabby's grey eyes were wide, frantically scanning the shadows for the Woodbury soldiers. Her skin glistened with sweat as the dark of night was starting to break. At least they had that on their side, they would have day light soon, and they would need it if they had any chance of surviving the woods to get back to the prison.

"I see two walkers close by, 40, 50 feet 'r so, but I can't be sure," Daryl whispered. "I only got one bolt and they took my knife."

"I have guns," Gabby volunteered, grabbing one of the pistols from the waist band of her shorts. Merle snorted.

"You fire 'em and you ring the damn dinner bell, or d'you just wanna hand yerself over to The Governor now?" He sneered.

"Shuddup Merle, you ain't helping," Daryl growled, pacing impatiently. He raked his dirty fingers through his hair and sized up the wall and stopped. "We ain't got a choice. Gotta chance it. Merle, you go first." Daryl crouched by the fence and linked his fingers together. Merle placed a dirty boot in his brother's hands and hopped up the wall, his good arm grasping the wood, while the metal stump hooked around the top. With a grunt, he pulled himself up and threw a leg over the fence and after a moment of adjustment sat along the fence line, offering his hand to Gabby.

Gabby handed the remaining grenade - the flash bang, to Daryl and grabbed Merle's hand and stepped onto Daryl's bent knee, with a small jump, Merle pulled her to the top of the fence with ease. She swung her legs over the fence and leaped down, landing silently and gracefully onto the pavement on the other side. The walkers in the distance shuffled slowly in the opposite direction, unaware of their presence.

"Hey! Over here!" A loud crack broke the silence, and Gabby let out a screech as splintered wood sprayed by her face.

"Dinner's served!" Merle yelled as he heaved Daryl up the wall. The brothers landed on the pavement with a loud thud. The two walkers turned around and spotted the three runaways and limped towards them as fast as their rotting legs would allow, groaning hungrily.

"They went over the wall!"

Daryl swore loudly and pulled the pin to the flash bang and tossed it over the fence. "We gotta go!" He shouted. The crack and the flash of light reminded Gabby of thunder and lightening as the flash bang detonated. This would buy them precious seconds as their pursuers recovered from the effects. Merle knocked one of the walkers in the head with his metal prosthetic as they ran through the alley of abandoned buildings. The alley's end - their freedom was just ahead. Dark figures staggered into the pathway. Gabby saw Daryl stumble as he skidded to a stop.

"Christ, there's dozens of 'em!" Daryl exclaimed.

"This way," Merle barked, cutting right to another alley way. Another crack from the town made him flinch. The flash bang effects wore off.

Gabby's sneakers pounded against the asphalt. The path ahead of her was littered with a handful of walkers. She watched as Daryl dodged a rotting hand as he ran past what looked to be a man in a shredded flanel shirt. Suddenly, she felt something snag her hair, pulling her off balance. Gabby landed on her back, the wind rushing out of her lungs. She couldn't scream. A decayed face bore down on her, it's brown teeth gnashing as it snarled menacingly at her. She clawed desperately at it, pushing its head away from her face. With a gasp, her lungs expanded again, and she screamed for help.

Daryl spun around and saw Gabby's legs kicking furiously as she battled the walker. Two others started shuffling towards her, their meal ticket at their mercy.

"Shit," he swore. He started towards her and felt a hand on his shoulder, pulling him back.

"She's a goner," Merle told him. Daryl jerked away from him.

"Don't know that yet," he snapped. He raised his crossbow and fired his only bolt at the walker wrestling with Gabby. It sunk into the top of its head with a soft thwack and the corpse slumped over. He ran behind one the walkers closing in on her and swung the crossbow wildly, cracking it in the side of the head. The third walker turned its attention to Daryl and he kicked it in the knee. He felt the joint buckle as the force of his foot caused it to snap. The walker crumpled into a heap, it's leg bent the opposite way. Daryl swallowed back the bile and rushed over the Gabby. He grabbed the woman's arm and heaved her to her feet. Her face was spattered with black goo. He reached down and grabbed the bolt and pulled it out of the walker's skull with a sickening squelching sound.

"Ya bit?" Daryl demanded, tugging her alongside him. Gabby's eyes were scanning the alley wildly. "You bit?" He repeated himself, shaking her roughly. That seemed to snap her out of her stupor. With a trembling lip, she shook her head. Daryl's blue eyes searched her face.

"He - it didn't bite me," she confirmed. Daryl nodded and the two picked up their pace, trotting after Merle.

"The Governor's men won't be comin' after us through all that" Merle said, glancing behind them at the horde of walkers clambering after them.

...

They hiked in single file through the woods, Gabby stuck close to Daryl, jumping at every noise that sounded in the woods. Dawn was starting to break, allowing enough light to navigate the trees as safely as possible in this new world. No one spoke, and Daryl was glad of it. His thoughts were overwhelming enough as he tried to grasp the events that unfolded a few hours ago. When Glenn had told him Merle was in Woodbury, he had half expected to reunite with his brother, despite Rick's pleas. Although, the terms in which they met were a little more than Daryl had bargained for. He sure as hell wasn't expecting to see Gabby, in fact, he had given very little thought to her since the dead began walking. Sure, he couldn't deny that in the 17 years that had passed since he last saw her she had crossed his mind now and then; particularly when he would drown his sorrows in a few too many beers or whiskeys.

He pushed the thoughts down to the back of his mind. He needed to concentrate on getting back to the group. Still, he couldn't help but appreciate the way Gabby wore her jeans shorts like she was doing them a favour. He watched her out of the corner of his eye. Her large gray eyes darted from side to side, scanning for rotting corpses lurking in the trees.

Walkers barely scared Daryl anymore, unless there were a herd of them. A few here and there were easy enough to take out, they were slow, and stupid. He had to keep reminding himself to not let his guard down, because as slow and as stupid are they are, he's seen more than one member of his group fall victim to a sneaky walker. He thought briefly of Dale, with a pang of regret. Poor bastard got too comfortable on the farm. Hell, they all did. He supposed those losses should make him respect the danger of the walkers, but after what he escaped from, the real danger came from other living, breathing people.

"You got any fucking idea where we're goin'?" Merle demanded, stepping over a fallen tree.

Daryl sighed. "Yeah, I do. We got a ways to go yet, and when we get there, lemme do the talkin'."

Merle snorted derisively.

"I mean it, Merle. They ain't gonna be too happy with you after what you done," Daryl snapped.

"What did he do?" Gabby interjected, confused.

Merle ignored her and quirked an eyebrow at Daryl. "What _I_ done?" He sneered. "I seem to recall bein' handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta and havin' to cut off my own fuckin' hand to get away from the geeks fixin' to make me their dinner. Wouldn't do that to a goddamn dog."

Daryl exploded. "Goddammit Merle, we came back for you. The chain held up and if you just woulda waited, we'da found you," he snapped. "And then you go kidnappin' Maggie and Glenn? Jesus Merle."

Gabby paled. "W-wait, what? Who's Maggie and Glenn? Did you kidnap them?" She stared at Merle, horrified. The older Dixon set his jaw, but didn't answer her.

"We only came to Woodbury to get 'em back," Daryl seethed.

Gabby felt sick. Her head began to spin, as she stumbled away from Daryl and Merle, walking her hands from tree to tree to keep herself up right. After ensuring she was far enough away from the brothers, she bent over and vomited into dead leaves on the forest floor.

Wiping her mouth on her arm, she stood up to hear a click and felt a cool barrel pressing into her temple.


	6. Chapter Four: Stand Off

_A/N: Thanks so much to my lovely reviewers. I knew there are only a few of you, but you do make my day! Same to my Followers and Favouriters! Though you should come out of the wood work and say hello! :D_

**Chapter Four: Stand Off**

Daryl was nose to nose with Merle when he heard a whimper come from the trees. "Shit!" He swore and rushed towards the sound with Merle close behind. Through the trees he saw a large black man pointing a gun at Gabby. He watched as she slowly placed her pistol on the ground and stood up. He saw the tears streak down her cheeks and he leapt into action. He set his loaded crossbow down and cocked the pistol and aimed it at the attacker's head. "Drop the gun," he ordered, his voice strong and steady. The black man startled slightly, but kept the gun trained at Gabby's head.

"Just waste 'im," Merle said. He had Daryl's crossbow in his hands. The sound of a twig snapping behind them set Merle whirling around, crossbow aimed.

"Everyone calm down, now!" The voice ordered.

A grin spread across Merle's face. "Well, if it ain't my old pal Officer Friendly!" He exclaimed, he shifted the crossbow slightly, rebalancing it on his handless arm, but kept it trained on his target.

Rick Grimes advanced towards the group slowly, keeping his gun aimed at Merle. He nodded at the black man.

"Who the fuck is this guy?" Daryl demanded, not moving the pistol from his target.

"Name's Tyreese," the black man said, he started to relax slightly and looked at Rick. "Is this your man?"

Rick gave him a quick nod, keeping his eyes trained on Merle. "The girl with you?" Rick asked Daryl.

"She sprung us from Woodbury," Daryl said.

A flash of confusion swept over Rick's face but gave him a small nod.

"Can we all lower our weapons?" Tyreese asked. He raised his arms over his shoulders, and turned to face Daryl. He slowly moved the gun towards his pockets and clicked the safety on and put it in his pocket. Daryl kept the gun trained at him for a moment longer and slowly lowered his arm.

Gabby let out a choked sob, and sunk to the forest floor. Daryl turned his attention on Rick and Merle, watching the black man out of the corner of his eye.

"I'm going to lower my weapon now," Rick said, staring hard at Merle.

"That's nice of you," Merle replied, not moving from his stance.

"Put it down, Merle," Daryl ordered. Merle ignored him and steadied the bow. "Goddammit Merle, drop the fuckin' bow!" He wasn't sure what made him do it, perhaps it was out of habit of having Rick's back for nearly a year, but he advanced towards his brother, pistol raised.

This rattled Merle, his blue eyes darted quickly between his brother and Rick, the man who handcuffed him to the roof in Atlanta. He nodded slowly at Rick and lowered the crossbow. Rick stepped towards Merle and grabbed the weapon from him. Once he had it securely in his possession, he turned on the safety of his gun and holstered it.

Merle turned his gaze on his Daryl, his blue eyes wide with shock. Daryl dodged his gaze and lowered the pistol and tucked it into the front of his jeans. He stalked over to Gabby and retrieved the pistol that lay on the ground beside her. He crouched down in front of her and lifted her chin with his hand. "S'okay, now. These are my people," Daryl told her softly.

Gabby nodded and furiously brushed away the tears streaking down her cheeks. She reached up towards his outstretched hand and he pulled her to her feet. For a fleeting moment, the Daryl Dixon she knew when she was 17 had showed himself once again.

...

"I was born and raised in Gainesville, just outside of Atlanta, did a short stint in the pros for the Atlanta Falcons, before blowing out my knee, and before all this happened, I was a bouncer for a club in Macon," the black man named Tyreese explained. "My and my group have been wandering the state, chasing food and safety. Two very rare things these days. We stumbled upon the prison, and Rick's boy saved us from some...walkers, you call them? Anyway, after Rick here returned to the prison with the two women and the asian boy, forgive me, I've been terrible with names my whole life, I heard them discussing going to find you, and I volunteered to go along. Least I could do for the hospitality."

Daryl nodded absently. All he had wanted to know was if this Tyreese guy was trustworthy.

"It took some convincing, mind you," Tyreese continued. "Can't say I blame you folk from what I have pieced together. In times like these, you'd think the living would be working together to survive, not kidnapping each other and killing other living folk."

"You would think," Gabby muttered. She stayed as close to Daryl as possible without clinging to him, which she had so desperately wanted to do. These new people scared the shit out of her, and she almost wished she was back at Woodbury, blissfully ignorant to the evils that took place there. She wondered to herself if she would have tried to help if it was anyone other than Daryl in the pit last night, or would she have just left the arena and allow it to happen. Or worse, would she have stayed and watched? She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. No, she decided, she would have done the right thing. Of course she would have, knowing what she knew _now_. Back at the arena, she had no idea that Woodbury was holding two people hostage. She shuddered at the thought.

Gabby's heart wrenched at the thought of Travis, her husband. Would The Governor think he was part of her...plan, if that is what you could call it? What if he was standing in the arena now in front of the entire town screaming for their pound of flesh? They had their issues before all this happened. In fact, she had been considering divorce. She was tired of going through the motions, existing together, but not living. And she had reason to believe that Travis had someone on the side after too many late nights out and him "accidentally" forgetting his wedding ring on the bathroom sink after showering, when he _never _took it off for anything.

Once the dead started walking, it brought them closer. Having to rely on each other for survival would do that to people, she supposed. Who knew walking corpses would make the best marriage counsellors? If only she had known that before spending the thousands of dollars on Dr. Minard in Macon. She had been planning to leave Travis. She had received a job offer teaching dance at Julliard in New York, and with her dancing career winding down, it would have made a steady paycheque. She remembered the look of relief on his face when he burst through the doors of their house when the outbreak started and saw her on the couch watching the news in horror. She thought of how he grabbed her face and kissed her with the passion she was starving for, for years.

Tears stung her eyes. She would never see him again. And here she was stomping through biter infested woods with her first love, his kidnapper brother and two armed men, one of which held a gun to her head. She began to wonder what was better, the devil she knew or the devil she didn't.

...

Daryl watched his brother closely. Merle was a volatile son-of-a-bitch and he held a mean grudge. There was no doubt that Rick Grimes was definitely number one on his shit list. If Merle didn't come around, he'd have no choice but to leave. He cared way too damn much about the people at the prison to allow even his own brother to destroy what they had worked so hard for. If protecting them meant that that he and Merle had to hit the road and try and make it alone, then so be it. Maybe Merle was right, it's the Dixons against the world.

They reached the clearing of the woods. In the distance he could see the prison ahead, the landscape was littered with walkers. He felt Gabby's shoulder brush his arm as she skirted closer to him. He knew after explaining what Gabby did for him, the group would embrace her. Especially Carol. That woman had more compassion than she knew what to do with, even after being dealt the shittiest hand in life that he ever heard of.

"Stay close, Rick and I will keep you safe," Daryl whispered to her.

Tyreese stopped and unsheathed a knife from his belt and handed it to Daryl. "Here ya go, brother," he said.

Merle glared daggers at the black man, but remained quiet. Daryl nodded his thanks. "What about you?"

Tyreese pulled a hammer from his belt and held it up. "I got my weapon of choice. Rick insisted on bringing the knife. Hell, this hammer has been with my since the beginning and hasn't let me down yet. If it ain't broke, don't fix it as my mama always said," he explained.

Rick turned around and held a finger to his lips, silencing them. "Maggie is up in the tower keepin' watch. Michonne is waiting at the gate with her Katana. She will clear the walkers at the gate when we get closer. Stay in formation and let's move!" He ordered.

...


	7. Chapter Five: Woodbury

_A/N: So I've decided what I am going to do with a certain useless blonde character whose name may or may not rhyme with "Mandrea". This is intended to be taking place at the same time Daryl and Merle were in the pit at Woodbury. This will also buy me time to think up ways plug up some plot holes I left in the previous chapters (Oopsie-doodle)._

_As always, please review! It really is a great motivator, and even if the review says "I hate you, you suck" that's cool too! Special thanks to NL March, my most dedicated reviewer. Her story When it All Falls Down is awesome too, so you should find it and read it!_

_If you can't tell already this a reimagining of Season 3 thus far, which is really hard to do, because it is awesome so far and Darylicious as well. I am following (sort of) the guidelines of what we already know, and I have been using the previews to sort of guide me, though I am sure I am going to be way off, and if I am not, then it's purely coincidental._

**Chapter Five: Woodbury**

Andrea blew a blonde lock of hair that had fallen from it's barrette out of her face. Her back ached from the grim task of moving the bodies that were left scattered from the assault on Woodbury by bandits. She pulled out her pistol as she approached the the fourth body, and shot the bullet that would prevent him from reanimating. That would be the last thing this town would need now, for the men that had given their lives to protect this town to turn into monsters. She bent down and grabbed the dead man's wrists. With a grunt, she slowly began dragging the body to where she had lined up the others.

She didn't mind the hard work, as depressing as it was. She readily took the job when Phillip/The Governor asked her to while he was getting his eye looked at after Michonne assaulted him. To be honest, out of everyone in the town, she was the one that was the most used to death, if that was possible. The folk here were blissfully sheltered from the horrors that took place outside of these walls and were more than likely a little too comfortable, leaving them vulnerable to the attack.

One thing that didn't add up for her was seeing Michonne in Phillip's house. That woman worked alone, and it was more than coincidence that she showed up at the same time bandits. She would have to talk to Phillip later, maybe he knew more about what had happened that night.

There were other things she needed to talk to him about too. The aquarium filled with walker heads, for one. She shuddered at the thought. There had to be a reasonable explanation for that, right?

She approached the school bus parked near the fence and readied her gun as she saw the body lying there. It was the man she saw in the prison jumpsuit. Upon closer inspection she saw the telltale hole in the man's head. At least the bandits had the decency to take care of their own. He was a big man and Andrea wasn't sure if she would be able to drag that weight to the pile of bodies. Fuck it, she decided. He can burn, he didn't deserve to be buried.

In the distance she could hear the townspeople chanting, but she couldn't make out what they were saying. She would make one final sweep of the grounds to ensure she hadn't missed anything before joining them.

Andrea started making her way to the storage house, hoping there would be a sheet or a tarp that she could cover the bodies with until the morning when graves could be dug for them. She didn't have the energy to do it tonight and tomorrow she could get help. Four graves where a tall order, but she'd be damned if these men got anything but a proper burial. The kerosene torches dimly lit the the streets. They were used sparingly but the guards needed the light during the assault.

As she got closer, she saw a woman running from the storage house towards the arena. Andrea thought it was the woman who was in charge of the weapon inventory but she couldn't be sure. She was briefly introduced to the townspeople as she ran across them. She thought of the dead men and wished she had made more of an effort to get to know the townspeople better.

She entered the house and felt around for the small mag light the was kept on the shelf. She sighed. That woman must have forgotten to put it back where it belonged. She gave her eyes a few moments to adjust to the darkness. To her left, she saw a stack of camping supplies. With luck, there would be a small kerosene lantern, like the ones Dale had in his RV. Andrea's heart ached at the thought. She had many regrets when it came to the old man's death. She wished she had been a little bit nicer to him after the CDC. Even after her anger had subsided, things were never quite the same with him, and she was sorry for it.

She fumbled around the pile of camping supplies and can up empty handed. Frustrated, she turned to leave. She would have to find the woman at the arena and come back for the sheets. Hopefully she would be able to cover the bodies before any of the town folk had to see them.

Suddenly, the chanting changed. She heard screaming take its place. Andrea started to run but in the darkness she didn't see the chest in front of her. She cursed loudly as the pain shot up her knee. Oh shit, that hurt. She swore she was seeing stars. She blinked back the tears, and gingerly took a few steps. Satisfied her knee suffered nothing more than some deep bruising she hobbled out of the storage house and made her way as quickly as she could manage towards the commotion.

...

Andrea fought her way through the mass of panicked townspeople running from the arena. She grunted as a short man in his thirties ran into her. "What the hell is going on?" She yelled at him. He looked at her with wide eyes and continued running. She sifted her way through the group, gun drawn and pointed upward. She reached the abandoned warehouse and into the arena. Smoke swirled in the middle of the arena where the walker fights had taken place.

"Phillip!" She screamed. The bandits had returned. She saw a figure dart through the smoke and she aimed her pistol at it. As it made its way through the clearing she saw that it was Martinez, one of Phillip's most trusted soldiers.

"Where is he?" She asked. Martinez shrugged and hurried off, rifle drawn. She moved slowly through the smoke, covering her nose and mouth with her shirt. She saw a dark shadow standing in the middle of the arena and approached it slowly.

"Phillip?" She asked. The shadow turned, revealing a man with a bandage over his right eye. Andrea sighed with relief. "What the hell is happening?"

"Go home Andrea," he retorted, his face expressionless.

"Not until I know what is going on," Andrea countered, stubbornly. She crossed her arms defiantly.

"Go home!" He shouted. Andrea recoiled, stung, and The Governor softened. "Please, I will tell you everything there."

...

Andrea closed the door to the room where she found Phillip and Michonne. The smell was nauseating and she didn't have the stomach to clean up the severed heads. Breathing heavily to fight the bile climbing up her throat, she sat in the farthest chair away from the grisly room.

After what seemed like hours, the front door burst open and The Governor stalked in, followed by Milton and Martinez. "What the hell do you mean they got away?" The Governor growled. He saw Andrea sitting in the living room and stopped.

"They went over the wall and -" Martinez began but stopped when The Governor raised his hand to silence him.

"Who got away? What the hell is going on? And don't lie to me!" Andrea demanded, standing up. "Where's Merle?"

"He defected," The Governor replied, coldly.

Andrea frowned. "What?"

"He betrayed us all, he was working with the terrorists the whole time," The Governor explained. "We had caught one of them and Merle revealed his true colours, and they escaped."

"Wait, _Merle _betrayed the town? That doesn't make any sense," Andrea argued. "And what was Michonne doing here? And what the hell is up with that room?"

"Michonne was one of the terrorists," The Governor replied. "I'm sorry, I know you thought she was your friend."

Andrea scoffed. "You expect me to believe that Michonne and Merle were working together?"

"I can hardly believe it myself," The Governor said, shaking his head sadly. He walked over to the small bar and poured himself a Scotch and tipped it back in one gulp. He walked over to Andrea and pulled her into a hug, not noticing her body stiffen at his touch. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know she was your friend."

Andrea nodded, confused and he pulled away. A knock on the front door sounded and The Governor nodded at Martinez who hurried to open it.

"Sir! Someone was in the weapon stores!" One of the wall guards burst in the room.

"Are you sure, Braddock?" The Governor asked, frowning.

The man nodded. "Positive, sir. The key was left in the door and the inventory is off."

"What was taken?" The Governor demanded.

"Not much, a couple pistols, a box of ammo, some smoke grenades and a flash bang," Braddock replied.

"FUCK!" The Governor swore. He threw the glass in his hand and Andrea jumped as it shattered against the wall. Milton scurried over to the mess and began picking up the glass pieces. The Governor paced the room angrily. "There is another traitor in Woodbury. Braddock, I want you to make sure everyone is accounted for."

Braddock nodded and started for the door.

"Wait! I think I saw who did it," Andrea said. Braddock stopped and waited. The Governor stared at her expectantly. "I saw a woman running from the storage house during the meeting. I was going in there to grab some sheets, or a tarp to cover the bodies with. I wasn't close enough to tell who it was, but she had long dark hair and was wearing shorts."

Braddock paled. "Shit. I think I know who it is," he gasped.

"Who?" The Governor demanded.

Braddock swallowed nervously. "Gabby Fuller was working in there tonight. I share a house with her and her husband Travis."

"Find Fuller for me, and bring him here," The Governor barked. Braddock nodded and disappeared through the door.


	8. Chapter Six: A Hero's Welcome

_A/N: Oh woe is the author who gets no feedback. My poor fragile ego. (Except you, NL March and Peachuzoid, you guys rock). It's because I said there was gonna be no smut right? Trust me, you do not want me to write smut, it will be terrible. Ever seen 10 Things I Hate About You where the principal was writing a smutty novel? Yeah...it would be kinda like that, except way less sexy. Trust me, I'm a super prude. A super prude that likes to swear a lot._

_Good lord, I've written and rewritten this chapter, I don't know how many times and I feel I will never do it justice to what I wanted to achieve in my head. It was actually written before the Woodbury chapter and the idea occurred to me at work what to do with a certain useless blonde character whose name may or may not rhyme with "Mandrea"._

**Chapter Six: A Hero's Welcome**

"I don't have to worry about you, do I?" Rick asked Merle, his tone more threatening than questioning.

"I'll be as good as gold," Merle promised. His smile was unreadable as he pointedly traced an X over his heart with the metal stump. Rick gave him a hard stare and glanced over to Daryl.

"He won't do shit," Daryl promised/warned.

"Keep your eyes open, the group won't be expecting us back so early, so they might be unprepared," Rick explained. He beckoned the group forward with his hand. Slowly and methodically the group advanced toward the prison with Rick and Tyreese at the front and Daryl hanging back to keep an eye on his brother. Gabby resisted every instinct in her body that was screaming at her to run as fast and as far away from the walkers as possible. Whenever they caught the attention of a walker, one of the armed men would skirt out of the formation and deftly eliminate it.

As they approached the gate Gabby watched as a black, dreadlocked woman, whom she guessed must be Michonne, slipped through the gates and swiftly started clearing out the walkers that had gathered in front of it with deadly precision. The sword sliced through them like a hot knife in butter and Gabby thought of a farmer cutting through wheat with a sickle. It was mesmerizing to watch how gracefully she worked. She felt a hand roughly grab her arm and pull her toward the gate and heard a sickening crunch. She turned and saw Daryl yank his knife out of a walker's head that had shuffled up to her while she was enthralled by the woman with the sword.

He glared at her fiercely, his blue eyes narrowing. He grabbed her bicep and roughly pulled inside the safety of the gates. "I-I'm sorry!" Gabby cried. Daryl all but shoved her inside the gates and turned to close them. He whistled at Michonne who decapitated the last walker and ran back to the gate, breathless and spattered in blackish-red goo. Underneath the gore, Gabby saw that she was a beautiful woman. Her dark complexion reminded her of percolated coffee. She had a long, graceful body that made Gabby wonder if she was a dancer like her as well.

She watched as Daryl and Michonne secured the first gate. Daryl brushed past her, still angry with her for freezing outside of the gate and joined the group at the mouth of the second gate. Michonne hung back and sheathed the sword in the holder slung across her back.

Gabby saw the group on the other side approaching the second gate as Rick worked to open it.

"WHAT THE FUCK IS HE DOING HERE?" The commotion caught the attention of the black woman who rushed forward, unsheathing her sword. Gabby flinched instinctively as the woman ran past here.

"Hey, hey, hey, HEY!" Rick blocked the path to Merle from an asian man. Gabby gasped when she saw the swollen, purple bruises that covered the man's face, and knew it was Glenn, the man that Merle had kidnapped. She saw a young brown haired woman grab the asian man's arms and pull him back. She heard the click of a pistol and saw Michonne freeze with her sword raised at Merle, Daryl's gun pointed at her head.

"One more fucking move," he dared her, his jaw set. Merle had shrunk away from Michonne. He quickly regained his composure when he saw the woman freeze, her dark eyes glaring daggers from one Dixon brother to the other. Merle stared back at her defiantly, as she sheathed the sword and stalked away

A woman with cropped grey hair pushed her way through the group. Her blue eyes brimming with tears and she covered her mouth with her hands. She slowly reached a quavering hand out towards Daryl, not quite making contact with him, before turning away and walking towards the prison.

"Who is she?" The young brown haired woman asked, nodding towards Gabby.

...

Gabby lowered herself onto the lumpy mattress and buried her face in her hands. A few cells over, Merle was prowling back and forth in front of the bars, screaming obscenities. He had fought relentlessly, but ultimately Rick and Tyreese out-muscled him and wrangled him into the cell. Gabby had resigned herself to her fate and went into her cell willingly.

"Merle ain't gonna stand for being locked up like an animal," Daryl warned a breathless Rick, after Tyreese left the cell block.

"What else am I supposed to do with him, huh?" Rick growled. "After what he did to Maggie? To Glenn? Goddammit, Daryl, my hands are tied!"

Daryl scowled at him. "What about the girl?"

"I'm going to talk to the others before I make up my mind what to do about the girl or your brother," Rick replied simply and stalked off.

"So much for 'it's not a democracy'," Daryl muttered, bitterly. He surveyed Gabby's slouched figure through the bars. "Betcha wished you never bothered, huh?" He asked before leaving D Block.

...

Daryl tramped up the stairs in C Block towards the guards' perch that he had claimed for his own. He was tired, sore and more than a little stressed out at the day's events. He paused when he heard voices yelling.

"He can't stay here!"

It was Glenn.

Daryl stood quietly to observe the scene below. He watched as the asian man stalked through the cell block, a distraught Maggie tailing him and Hershel hobbling not too far behind. For an old man, he got around on his crutches very well. Daryl figured that all the hard work Hershel did on the farm made it impossible for him to slow down. Any farmer he's ever known worked until the day they died.

"Glenn, you can't, he is Dixon's brother!" Maggie pleaded. Daryl bristled. Just what the hell did that chinaman plan to do? He continue to peer at them through the gaps in the metal stairs. Despite him being in the open, they were oblivious to his presence.

"Maggie, he set a walker on me! And you - " Glenn stopped, his voice choked as he fought back a sob.

Daryl watched as Hershel surveyed his daughter carefully, his watery blue eyes looked sad and dull. "You never did tell me what happened to you, Maggie May," Hershel said gently.

Maggie's lip quivered. "Nothing. He didn't touch me! Please daddy, don't make me tell you, not yet. I promise I will tell you, just not today," she told the old man. Hershel sighed and nodded slightly, averting his gaze to the dirty prison floor. Maggie turned her focus on Glenn. "Please, no more bloodshed," she begged, gently cupping his face in her hands.

Glenn's resolve was crumbling and he stomped past Maggie and her father, throwing the knife Daryl had just realized he had to the concrete floor with a loud clatter.

After watching the girl and her father turn around to follow him, Daryl quietly ascended the stairs to gather his belongings. He was moving to D Block.


	9. Chapter Seven: Little Talks

_A/N: I have been wanting to update this sooner, but alas...busy, busy, busy._

_Woo! I have a new reviewer! Makes me happy! Not to discount my regulars, though...love hearing your feedback! I have no idea how long this story will be, but I have HUGE plans for the characters. HUGE! I am sort of loosely basing it (VERY loosely) on the graphic novel as well. I'm going to try and make my chapters longer, but I can't promise anything. I'd rather write 1500 words than 5000 and have the chapter drag. There are a lot of authors who can write massively large chapters and make them awesome (coughPeachuzoid,WTFdouwantNOW,NLMarchcough) but I am not one of them. But I will try!_

_ANd just to clear things up from one of my reviews, from what I understood from the show, the group have been living in Cell Block C and Daryl took the guard tower/office in C Block because he didn't want to sleep in a cage. Poor Gabby and Merle are locked in separate cells in D Block, and Daryl is going to move into the D Block guard tower/office._

_Just a random factoid, while writing this story, I listen to Florence and the Machine's Shake it Out on repeat. It's an amazing song, check it out!_

**Chapter 7: Little Talks**

Daryl made his way down the stairs from the C Block guard's office that he had claimed as his room when they moved into the prison. The small duffel bag he had scavenged after leaving the farm was stuffed full with the clothes Carol had gathered for him on their travels, along with his oil and wax that he used to maintain his crossbow. He was too busy clearing out walkers or hunting to even think of fresh clothes before the prison. Hell, who was he kidding, clean clothes had never been a priority for him. He figured no matter what he wore, he was still an ugly sonuvabitch, and before the world went to hell, the group that he relied on and relied on him, would recoil in disgust at the sight of him.

He also grabbed the sticks he had gathered to make new bolts, along with the owl feathers he'd saved from his last kill before they got to the prison. Jesus, he hadn't hunted in that long? He supposed that since the prison was so well stocked with food he hadn't needed to, but damn it if he wasn't sick of bland oatmeal and canned goods. He made a mental note to plan another hunting trip, once things were settled. He had to make sure that Merle was safe before he could take off. The little fucker Glenn had surprised him. Sure, over the past year or so, the little twerp had grown an impressive pair of figurative balls, hell, he saved Daryl's ass more times than he'd care to admit. There was a difference between bravery and stupidity. And planning to kill his brother was a very, very stupid move.

The sound of a baby crying pulled Daryl from his thoughts. Shit. Daryl was convinced that Carol had some sort of satellite in her brain that could triangulate his every move. The gray haired woman gazed at him curiously with her big blue eyes, holding Little Ass Kicker, or Judith, as everyone else was calling her. That woman always played dirty, when it came to getting her way with him. Bringing that baby was the equivalent of bringing a gun to a knife-fight.

"Going somewhere?" Carol asked softly. The small bundle squirmed impatiently in the woman's arms as she finished shaking the bottle of formula and lowered it to the infant's hungry mouth.

"I gotta keep an eye on Merle," Daryl grunted, avoiding her gaze.

"I don't think he could do much," Carol said. She cooed at Judith as she shifted the baby's weight in her thin arms.

"Ain't Merle I gotta worry about," Daryl retorted. Carol looked at him, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion. Daryl sighed and shook his head, he could still feel Carol's eyes boring into the back of his head as he skirted past her. He really couldn't explain what it was about Carol that made him gravitate towards her. Maybe it was their fucked up pasts. Maybe he just felt sorry for her. Their connection was not romantic, it was not friendly...it was beyond those things. Whatever it was, they understood each other and that woman could read Daryl like a book, much to his chagrin.

"Please don't do this," Carol called after him. Daryl froze for a second. Every part of him wanted to turn around and head right back up the stairs to the C Block Guard office. These were his people. He laid his life on the line time and time again for their safety and they did the same for his.

"He's my brother," Daryl shot back, and proceeded towards D Block.

Carol watched sadly as Daryl disappeared from sight. Judith let out a small cry, prompting the woman to plant a soft kiss on the baby's head. "I know, baby girl," she murmured. "I know."

...

Gabby had managed to doze off on the lumpy mattress. After the shock of leaving Woodbury, her close calls with guns and walkers, she was exhausted. Her eyes felt like they were filled with sand after spilling every last tear onto her pillow. Her mouth felt like it was filled with cotton and her bout of nausea told her she had cried herself to dehydration. She sat up slowly on the bed. She couldn't hear Merle Dixon yelling anymore so he either fell asleep or got tired of his screams going unanswered and gave up for the moment. Whatever it was, she was grateful; another side effect of being dehydrated was he pounding in her head. It was like being hungover without the fun the night before.

She tried not to think about what the people living at the prison was planning to do with her. She had overheard Daryl arguing with Rick about her and Merle being locked up in jail cells before she had fallen asleep. Maybe they would let her out to integrate with the group, or maybe they would cast her out of the prison altogether and she'd have to fend for herself. Just how many of them were there? When they had first arrived, there didn't appear to be that many. Perhaps about a half dozen or so, but surely there were more inside she hadn't seen yet?

She heard foot steps approaching and she scrambled to her feet and approached the bars. "Hello?" She croaked. She ran her tongue across her parched lips and tried again. "Hello?" The footsteps stopped momentarily, then picked up again. She could see the shadow approach her cell through the dimly lighting the barred windows offered, and she backed up, suddenly hesitant. The figure drew closer, and despite herself, she startled slightly when it came into few view.

"Daryl!" She gasped, her heart racing. For this first time since the arena, Gabby allowed herself to take a good look at the man she had known years ago. Gone was his slightly lanky frame that his 19 year old body had boasted. His shoulders had broadened and his arms seemed permanently flexed. He had what Gabby called "working muscles," noticeable definition with out the vein-y bodybuilder "show muscles" that a lot of men strive to achieve in the gyms. His face still had the boyish handsomeness that she had found incredibly attractive, but his features had hardened. Fine lines had etched themselves in the corners of his striking blue eyes, and permanent bags seemed to have taken their places below them. His scruffy beard was peppered with flecks of gray, but although it was hard to tell, through the dirt and oil, it appeared the hair on his head remained gray-less.

"What?" He asked gruffly.

Gabby raked her fingers through her long, tangled hair nervously. She noticed he was carrying his crossbow and a tattered duffel bag. "You're not leaving are you?" She asked lamely. After the reception Merle had gotten, she figured the group wasn't keen on accepting him, and from what she knew about it all, she really couldn't blame them. Still, Daryl was the only person she knew here, and that familiarity was the only thing that made her feel safe in this dark, horrible place.

"That ain't your business," Daryl snapped back harshly. Gabby winced, and he softened. "Nah, I'm shackin' up in the guard's office up there," he said, pointing blindly behind him. "I gotta keep an eye on Merle, make sure he don't say nothin' stupid."

Gabby nodded though she had a feeling there was more to it than that. The oldest Dixon was nearly skewered by Michonne's katana and the asian man, Glenn, had looked ready to tear him apart limb by limb.

"I guess you didn't bargain for this, huh?" Daryl asked her suddenly, gesturing towards her cell.

Despite herself, Gabby gave him a small smile. "No," she answered honestly. "I don't know what I was expecting, but being locked up like a criminal sure as hell surprised me. I'm still trying to process exactly what happened, to tell you the truth. When I saw you in the pit, I- I couldn't sit back and let it happen, you know?"

Daryl nodded and looked thoughtful for a moment. "I got two questions for ya," he said. "Are you sorry you did it?"

Gabby shook her head. "I'd like to think, despite everything, I would do it over again. I would make the same choice."

Daryl nodded and chewed his thumbnail pensively. "What if it had been someone else in that pit?" He asked.

Gabby opened her mouth to speak, but no sound came out. After a moment, Daryl turned and walked away.

...

Allen wandered through the bowels of the prison. Tyreese's stint with Rob, or Randy, or whoever the hell led the group at the prison seemed to have earned them some freedom from the cell block that freckle-faced little bastard locked them in. Children with handguns. He shook his head. He knew the world had gone to shit, but what kind of people trusted a _child_ with a weapon like that? Something about this group didn't sit right with him, and despite all his attempts to talk sense into Tyreese, he was dismissed time and time again.

Not that they could get any privacy in this fucking place. Every time he had tried to talk to Tyreese, to plead his case, someone would pop out of the shadows, staring at him suspiciously. If it wasn't that freckle-faced brat in the over-sized Sheriff's hat, it was the mousey gray-haired woman. Or worse. The black woman with the sword whose only expression she had managed to keep on her face was the permanent scowl she'd leer at everyone with.

He slowed down and listened hard. Was that a voice he heard? He looked behind him. There didn't appear to be anyone around. A chill ran down his spine and he turned to head back to his son Ben. He had left him with Tyreese and his sister Sasha, who were trying to make nice with the locals. He needed to get away from everyone so he could clear his head. He had initially gone outside but changed his mind when he saw the tall brunette in the guard tower staring at him.

He stopped, there was definitely a voice coming from somewhere. He hesitated as he thought about sticking to his initial plan and finding Ben, but, his curiosity had took over and he proceeded forth. He slowed when he saw a door to his left slightly ajar. The voice he heard was clearly audible now. He frowned as he listened.

"We can't leave!" The voice hissed frantically. "We won't make it out there again. Not with Judy... Carl named her Judith, after his third grade teacher, remember her? God, she looks just like you, she -"

The voice stopped and Allen held his breath. He let out a slow breath when the voice started again.

"They attacked us first. They took Maggie and Glenn, and we almost lost Daryl. We have a few more people now, they'll help us fight. We're gonna keep this prison," the voice insisted.

Feeling braver, Allen dared to peek through the gap in the doorway and stifled a gasp. Rob, or Randy, or whoever the hell he was leaning against a wall, clutching an old black telephone. The thin man was hunched over, and his free hand raked through his greasy hair frantically. Help them fight? Jesus, what did Tyreese get them into? Allen turned around and crept away from the door. His heart beat rapidly in his chest. If Tyreese doesn't listen to him now, they were all fucked.

...

Beth Greene spooned the lumpy, gray oatmeal into two bowls. She wrinkled her nose slightly. She hated oatmeal. Well, that wasn't exactly true. Her momma used to make the most amazing oatmeal with maple syrup and brown sugar. Or she would dice up some fresh picked peaches and stir in some cream. This prison oatmeal was just...oatmeal. Slimy, bland, gray oatmeal. But it was food. After the farm, food had become somewhat of a luxury. Occasionally they'd come across a house that had a few good cans of vegetables or fruit left, and if they were really lucky, they'd find tuna fish or even Spam. Of course, Daryl killed whatever critter crossed their path, providing someone in the group didn't scare it off with the noise they made walking around. But one or two squirrels to split between 10 people wasn't very much at all.

They were lucky to have found this place, and to have this sticky, flavourless, slimy oatmeal. If there was one thing her father had taught her, it was to always count your blessings.

"Bethy?"

"Yes, Daddy?" Beth replied, placing the bowls on a plastic tray. She poured two cups of water from the jug of water they had and placed them on the trays as well.

"What are you doing?" Hershel hobbled into view on his crutches, his blue eyes fixed curiously on his youngest daughter.

"I thought I'd bring Daryl's brother, and that woman some breakfast," Beth answered as casually as possible. She knew her father, with the best of intentions, wouldn't approve of her fraternizing with the newcomers, but since she had heard Daryl was back, her curiosity was killing her. The thought of coming face to face with the man who had kidnapped her sister and Glenn scared her in that riding-the-biggest-rollercoaster-at-Six-Flags kind of way.

"I hardly think that's appropriate," Hershel lectured her.

Beth rolled her eyes before turning to face her father. She put on her biggest "doe eyes", the look that had won her nearly every battle she's ever had with her elderly father. "But Daddy, they gotta eat," she pleaded. "It would be unchristian of us to not provide them with the basic necessities of survival." Beth gloated inwardly. She knew her father couldn't argue with her about that.

Hershel studied the young blonde girl and sighed. "Fine, but you give them their food and then you leave. You are not to talk to them, understand?" Beth grinned and kissed her father on the cheek as she walked by.

"Thanks Daddy," she called over her shoulder.

"And bring Carl with you!" Hershel yelled after her.

...

Daryl sat down on the metal stairs that led up to his new sleeping quarters. Merle was snoring loudly in his cell, so he figured now was a good a time as any to replenish his bolts for his Horton Scout crossbow. Shoving one of the sticks he had gathered between his teeth, he began arranging the tools he needed to make new bolts. He carefully laid a few of the owl feathers onto his lap and grabbed the knife Tyreese had given him on their way back to the prison. He carefully ran a finger over the blade and sighed. It was as dull as shit. He missed his hunting knife that was taken by the fuckers in Woodbury. It was the same knife Merle had given him on his 21st birthday, and it was a damn good knife. Daryl had always taken great care to ensure it's razor sharp blade remained in pristine condition. Hell, even in this new world, Daryl never went to sleep without carefully cleaning and if needed, resharpening the blade.

He grabbed the stick from his teeth and set to work shaving the bark off with the less-than-stellar blade he was given. It would take longer than usual and he didn't hold high hopes for the bolts turning out as straight and accurate as he was used to, but they would have to do.

He heard a few sets of footsteps enter the block and he tensed. Carefully laying down the feathers down beside him, he placed the stick he was whittling down on top of them to keep them from floating away. He gripped the dull knife and carefully descended the stairs. Glenn would be a sorry motherfucker if he tried anything stupid.

The two hushed voices made him relax. It was only Beth and Carl. The blonde girl startled when she saw Daryl and smiled shyly. "We thought we'd bring your brother and -?"

"Gabby," Daryl offered.

Beth nodded. "Anyway, we thought we'd bring them some breakfast. I didn't think you'd be here, otherwise I would have brought some for you as well," she explained.

Daryl nodded. "Merle's sleepin', so leave it with me and I'll see to it that he gets it," he said. He thought he saw disappointment flash in the young girl's eyes, but he couldn't be sure. Anyway, Merle wouldn't take too kindly to being ogled at like some kinda freak show at the circus. "Better yet, I'll give Gabby hers, too." Now the disappointment was evident in Beth's face, but the girl nodded meekly and handed him the tray.

Carl gave Daryl a small nod and turned to follow the blonde girl back to C Block.

Daryl shook his head and looked down at the tray's contents and made a face. He hated oatmeal.

...

Merle stirred on the lumpy mattress. His back was killing him. He forced one bleary eye open and for one terrifying moment, he had no idea where he was. Did the Governor lock him up here? Where was Daryl? It took a few moments for him to catch his bearings and once he did, he flew to his feet and went straight for his jail cell's bars.

"Hey assholes!" He shouted, his voice echoing off the cold concrete walls. "Lemme out an' I promise, I ain't gonna hurtcha."

"They ain't buyin' it," a voice responded calmly.

Merle snorted derisively. "Well if it ain't Officer Friendly's little bitch, Deputy Darylena," he sneered, clutching the bars with his good hand. "My own brother. Look at you. You think yer somethin' in this group don'tcha? They don't give a shit about you. They was gonna leave you in Woodbury, jus' like they left me on that roof in Atlanta."

"Here's your breakfast," Daryl retorted through gritted teeth. He shoved the tray through the slot in the bars.

Merle looked down at it in disgust before knocking it's contents to the floor. "I fuckin' hate oatmeal! Wouldn't feed this slop to a pig!"

Daryl looked down at the mess and shrugged. "Suit yerself." He turned to walk away from the cell but stopped. "Ya know, if you stopped being such an asshole, I'd be able to make a case for you to get you outta that cage."

Merle scoffed. "Make a case for me, huh?" He repeated. "I guess you folks think you really have quite the system here. Gonna put me on trial in front of the judge, jury and executioner, are ya? Well tickle me pink, Darylena. You really got yerselves a regular ol' democracy here, don't ya?"

"As far as I know," Daryl replied, rounding to face his brother. "No."

...

_A/N: Whew! That is the longest chapter I've written yet, I hope it didn't drag! I promise lots of action will be happening soon, but I gotta set the tone, and all that jazz. And oatmeal is the most vile food on the planet. _


	10. Chapter Eight: Conspiracy Theories

_A/N: So today I woke up like YESSSSS! Walking Dead (okay, I really thought DARYL DIXON)! Then I realized that it's NEXT Sunday. Fail Whale. D:_

_So I have about 14 or 15 Story followers now and 6 Favouriters! SUPER flattered! Much love to y'all. Though I still say you should come on out of the woodwork and say hello! Remember, reading without reviewing is sort of like dining and dashing. It's delicious and satisfying, but it comes out of the waiter's tips. That made more sense in my head. Anyway, review pleeeeeeeease?_

_And I totally didn't mean to make this story from multiple POVs! D: Stuck now I guess! I also stole a saying from another writer, can't remember which, I think WTFdoUwantNOW, but I love it, so I took it!_

**Chapter Eight: Conspiracy Theories**

Tyreese frowned and rubbed his eyebrows with his thumb and middle finger. "Are you sure that's what you saw?" He asked the mousey haired man. He leaned against the bars of the cell he had claimed as his own. Allen nodded and Tyreese sighed. "Well, what do you expect me to do? These people have taken us in, gave us shelter and food. They have given us a chance! If that's not worth a bit of faith, I don't what is."

Allen snorted. "You think after all that's happened, that faith really has its place anymore?" He asked. His lip quavered and he turned away, trying to fight the tears he thought he had spent when he lost Donna, his wife.

"I have to," Tyreese told him. "It's gotten us this far hasn't it?" The large man adjusted the wool toque on his head and started to walk away. "I'm gonna find Sasha."

"So that's it?" Allen demanded, calling after him.

Tyreese stopped and turned. "Is what it?"

Allen shifted on his feet, composing himself. "We're expected to trust our lives to these people? For God's sakes, Tyreese, their so-called leader is having conversations with his imaginary friends on the telephone in the boiler room!"

Tyreese winced. "Shhhhh!" He cast a glance over his shoulder to ensure no one overheard. "Damn it, Al. I'll handle it. Don't tell anyone what you saw, ya hear me? No one." He gave Allen a warning glare before turning to find his sister.

...

Maggie leaned against the railing of the watch tower and hung her head. It was hot out and the position of the sun didn't allow for any shade on the tower. At least not where she needed to stand to ensure nothing was coming for them. Below, a few walkers limped along the fence line, moaning and growling. She wondered if they could smell her from here, she wouldn't doubt it, she wouldn't be surprised if the people of Woodbury could smell her from where they were from the way that she sweated in this damn Georgia heat. She wrinkled her nose and reached for her water bottle. She twisted off the cap and took a swig of the warm liquid before pouring some down the back of her neck. Her watch would be over soon, and that meant a change of clothes, food and Glenn.

She turned when she heard the the door open to the watch tower balcony. It was Michonne. Maggie gave her a small smile that faltered when the woman glowered in return.

"It's been quiet, aside from the handful of geeks down there," Maggie said, not quite making eye contact with the other woman. Truthfully, Michonne scared the shit out of her. She was frustratingly quiet that it could almost be considered sneaky, and she seemed cold, detached from everything. Except killing. She was good at that. Well, to be fair, Maggie actually hadn't_ seen_ her kill anyone, aside from walkers, and they were already dead. Though Maggie was sure Michonne could kill anything, living or dead without hesitation.

Michonne gave her a small nod and took the rifle that Maggie held out to her.

"Think you can shoot one of these things? It ain't a sword or -" Maggie began.

"I know it's not a sword," Michonne interrupted harshly, as she inspected the firearm.

Maggie nodded and licked her chapped lips nervously. "Right, so uh, someone will come up in four hours or so to relieve you," she babbled. "Do you need anything?"

Michonne looked up from the rifle's scope, her expression unreadable. Maggie grinned widely, as she always did when she was uncomfortable. "Okay, well, let us know!" She finished lamely and opened the door to the stair case. She paused and turned back to face the other woman. "Do you think The Governor will come for us?" She asked quietly.

"It ain't a matter of 'if'," Michonne replied. The young woman nodded slowly. Michonne watched as Maggie descended the stairs before turning her attention to the barren fields that lead to the woods.

...

Judith was sleeping, making tiny grunting noises in Carol's arms. Carol could sit there all day cradling that baby, but she knew there was too many things that had to be done around the prison. She gently laid the infant down in the makeshift crib in her cell. Since Lori was no longer with them, Carol had become the surrogate mother of sorts to the baby. She was a natural mother, and the role suited her just fine. She smiled down at the sleeping bundle, and began to rifle through the small amount of clothes she had piled neatly on the bottom bunk - Lori's bunk. It was a pain to climb to the top bed every night, especially at the rate Judith kept waking up throughout the night. She wasn't a young lady anymore and her joints didn't thank her for it, but she couldn't bring herself to sleep in her lost friend's bed. The most she could muster was piling her and Lori's clothes into small, neat piles.

Eventually, she would divvy up Lori's clothes among the women in the group, but right now, it didn't seem right. Though Lord knows, they could use them. She hoped there could be a supply run soon, but wouldn't hold her breath after what happened to Glenn and Maggie. Carol found her sole pair of yoga pants, and almost returned them to the pile, but decided the mystery woman that Daryl had brought back needed them more. It was a shame, they were her favourite, but that poor girl was a hell of a mess, and would surely appreciate, some clean(ish) clothes to wear. She grabbed a black, racer back cotton tank top and headed out to D Block, pausing only to tell Hershel to listen for the baby. She would find Daryl too, and try to talk him into coming back.

...

Gabby had piled her dishes neatly and left them on the floor close to the bars of her cell. She sat down on her bunk and hugged her knees, leaning against the cool concrete wall. She desperately needed to pee, but couldn't bring herself to go in the toilet in her cell. It was wide open and anyone could walk by her cell and catch her, literally, with her pants down. She wouldn't even pee with the bathroom door open at the home she had shared with her husband before the outbreak, she sure as well wouldn't do it with a bunch of strangers. Especially a bunch of strangers who locked her in the cell like she was a criminal.

Before she could feel too sorry for herself, she noticed a figure standing on the other side of the bars. It was the lady with the cropped grey hair that had greeted Daryl outside the prison. His wife or girlfriend, maybe? Gabby rose from the bed and slowly approached the woman. The woman was unconventionally pretty, with delicate features - close-set bright blue eyes and a thin, upturned nose.

"I thought you could use a change of clothes," the woman offered, feeding two lumps of black fabric through the bars. Gabby looked down at her blood and dirt covered jean shorts and tank top and took the offering gratefully.

"I'm Carol, by the way," the woman said with a small smile.

Gabby nodded. "I'm Gabriella, but you can call me Gabby," she replied. "Can you make sure no one is coming?" She held up the clothes Carol had given her sheepishly. "And...I gotta pee."

Carol gave her a small smile. "The coast is clear," she said, turning her back to allow Gabby some privacy to take care of business.

Gabby quickly tugged the soiled tank top she was wearing over her head and pulled the new one on. She slid out of her jean shorts and froze in horror when the other woman barked. "You stop right there, Daryl Dixon!"

"What the hell for?" She heard the gruff voice shoot back in annoyance.

"Our guest is changing, and she would appreciate it if you would respect her privacy!" Carol scolded.

"Oh, right," came the clearly uncomfortable response. Gabby couldn't help but smile; she could practically _hear _Daryl blushing. She quickly kicked the shorts off her right foot and clambered into the black yoga pants, her sneaker catching on the pant leg and nearly face planting on the concrete floor.

"I'm good!" She announced, turning around.

Carol turned to face her. In the background, Daryl quickly scooted by her cell, keeping his eyes trained unnaturally in front of him, with a tray in hand. "I need to talk to you!" Carol called after him. An indiscernible response was shot back and the grey haired woman shook her head disapprovingly.

"Thank you for the clothes," Gabby said gratefully.

Carol smiled at her kindly. "Least I could do after what you did for Daryl. Rumour has it, you saved him from Woodbury?" Gabby gave a slight nod. "We are all very grateful for what you've done. Though, I've gotta ask, why on earth would you put yourself on the line like that for a stranger?"

Gabby smiled softly. "Daryl isn't a stranger," she confessed. The other woman looked floored. "We...grew up in the same town."

Carol pursed her lips thoughtfully. "So I guess you knew his lovely brother too then, huh?"

"Well, I knew _of_ him, never met him personally, before Woodbury," Gabby explained, brushing her hair out of her face.

"Lucky you," Carol murmered. She looked at Gabby oddly for a moment before smiling just a little too broadly. "Forgive me, I couldn't help but notice the ring on your finger. Your husband, is he...?"

"Dead?" Gabby finished for her. Carol nodded sheepishly. "No, he's not. At least, I don't think so. He's back at the town and -"

Before she could finish, the other woman turned abruptly and disappeared from sight.

...

Daryl's head was spinning. After returning Merle's dishes to C Block and fixing himself a bowl of oatmeal, that reminded him of what he had pictured gruel to be from the play he had read in school, Oliver Twist, he was ambushed by Carol, who was more edgy than a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

"Did you know she is _married?" _Carol hissed, the normal quiet, gentle woman had him pressed up against the bars separating C Block from D, jabbing a slender finger towards his chest with every word. "Jesus, Daryl, how do you know we aren't being set up?"

Daryl opened his mouth, but was too flabbergasted to answer. Hell, he was too shocked to even get angry at the woman who had so brazenly stepped into his overlarge bubble of personal space he had set for himself. He supposed he had given Carol an inch here or there, but until now, that dang woman never took a mile like was right then, aside from the odd dirty joke that he would promptly squash with a few choice words and a scowl.

"Don't you find it at all suspicious that she throws her whole life away to rescue some guy she knew growing up?" Carol demanded, her blue eyes narrowed accusingly.

Daryl began to recover from the shock and felt the anger rise from his chest and up to his temples. "Back off," he growled at her. He side-stepped away from her and began to storm away. He stopped and turned around. "And to answer yer question. Yeah, I was wonderin' why someone who risk their life to save a worthless piece of shit like me," he snapped. Carol recoiled, her mouth falling into a perfect "O" of surprise. "Funny, thing is," Daryl continued. "Is after all this time, I figured _you'd_ be the only one in this broken ass group that wouldn't question why someone would lay it all on the line fer the likesa me."


	11. Chapter Nine: Chasing Ghosts

_A/N: Sorry I'm so sparse with my updates, but I seriously barely have time to READ the fanfics I'm following, let alone write mine._

_Anyway, I have some new readers who've come out of the woodwork. Thank you! Your feedback and your follows/favourites really keep me motivated to keep writing. To my most loyal readers/ reviewers, you guys are amazing!_

_And this story goes AU now because the hiatus is over! AND just an FYI, I actually titled this chapter BEFORE the Mid-Season premiere! Seriously, I've been working on this in increments since last week._

**Chapter Nine: Chasing Ghosts**

_Chasing the ghost of a good thing;_

_Haunting yourself as the real thing._

_It's getting away from you again,_

_While you're chasing ghosts_

_- The Ghost of a Good Thing, Dashboard Confessional_

Rick Grimes rubbed his eyes with his thumb and forefinger, feeling the ache of his exhaustion behind his eyelids. He leaned back against the concrete wall, feeling the coolness filter through his sweat damp t-shirt. To his right the crimson stained concrete played as a constant reminder of what he lost. It was the constant reminder of the anger, the hurt and the betrayal he felt and that he never had the chance to forgive her. More importantly, it was the constant reminder that Shane was right. He couldn't keep Lori and Carl safe. He was the kiss of death to everyone in the group. Every decision he made cost them more lives - Amy, Jim, Jacqui, Otis, Sophia, Dale, Shane, Patricia, Jimmy, Andrea, T-Dog, Lori, and Oscar. Not to mention the lives he almost lost - Hershel, Glenn, Maggie and Daryl.

Rick let out a shaky breath. Every last one of those deaths fell on his hands. Shane's was even deliberate, calculated. Rick knew deep down, from the day Lori told him that Shane wanted what was his, that only one of them would come out of that mess alive. So Rick bided his time, waiting for his opportunity. He knew Shane well, and the man didn't disappoint. As much as he tried to convince himself that his hands were clean, his palms beared the crimson stains that grew darker with every loss.

As heavy as those losses were on his heart, and some were far more profound than others, it was the impending losses, the ones he couldn't measure that were the most crushing. They had poked a bear in Woodbury, and it was a matter of time before they had to answer for it. They couldn't lose the prison. They sacrificed too much to have it taken from them now.

Rising to his feet, Rick knew he had to come up with a plan, and who he needed to talk to. He grabbed the axe he had propped against the wall and headed out of the boiler room.

...

Merle stared at the blob of lumpy gray oatmeal on the floor of his cell with a disdainful sneer. He had tried every angle the small space allowed to try and get a glimpse of the rest of the block. His pussy ass brother was around here somewhere, he heard him stomping through the block and up the metal stairs to the second level just a few moments before. He had tried yelling for him, but Daryl either didn't hear him, or was ignoring him. If it was the latter, Merle would have to kick his ass as soon as he was able to.

He paced in front of the bars, growing more and more agitated with each passing moment. He punched the bars with his metal stump with a clang and swore loudly as the painful vibrations jolted up his arm, causing him to hunch over his arm protectively. Growling through gritted teeth, he pushed down the pain and straightened up. He nearly jumped when he saw the figure standing on the other side of the bars.

"'Bout fuckin' time you showed up," Merle drawled. Any indication that his arm was in pain was no longer evident, as he sauntered over to the bars lazily, his lips curled in his trademark smirk as he gazed over his visitor.

"I thought I was the last person you wanted to see?" Rick Grimes replied coolly. Merle glared at him in return.

"Listen, I'm not looking for a pissing match," Rick began. "We need to talk about The Governor and Woodbury."

Merle snorted. "We ain't gotta talk about shit, unless ya wanna discuss chainin' me up on that roof in Atlanta and leavin' me fer dead."

Rick's expression darkened. "There's a few things I could ask you about what you did to Glenn and Maggie, too, but I'm not interested in that right now. We've got women and children here, and I need to talk about Woodbury and what we should expect."

Merle's grin spread across his face like a Cheshire Cat. "And why should I tell you?" He taunted.

"Because I know that you want to live and you want Daryl to live, and the only way that'll happen is if we know what we are up against," Rick explained. He could see the other man studying him carefully. He had the same piercing blue eyes that Daryl had. Rick had one last card in his hand to play. "And you got to ask yourself who you're more mad at... Me? Or the Governor."

...

Daryl stabbed at the oatmeal in his bowl with more force than necessary before bringing the bland goop up to his mouth. His appetite was ruined, thanks to Carol, but his father would have whipped his ass if he allowed food to go to waste. It was a habit he couldn't break. He learned that Glenn had passed out in his and Maggie's cell when he casually asked Beth as he was helping himself to what was left of the prison group's breakfast, so he figured it was safe enough to take advantage of a chance at some real privacy.

He needed to digest the news that Carol had bombarded him with earlier. He wasn't sure what shocked him more; the fact that Gabby had a husband in Woodbury, or that Carol, who was notoriously compassionate and trusting, was suspicious of her. Maybe she had good reason to be? Was there something about Gabby that Daryl wasn't seeing? Maybe knowing her so many years ago made it easier to trust her. Or maybe he is just all "googly-eyed", as Merle would call it, and he is blind to whatever it was that was so obvious to Carol. Christ, Gabby was stunning; no red blooded man could getting a little punch drunk when she was around.

Daryl snorted at the thought and quickly banished it from his mind. He shovelled the last heaping bite of oatmeal in his mouth with a slight grimace and rose to his feet. He was gonna have to find out for himself, he decided. And soon, before that dang Carol goes and starts spreading a panic. People are pissed enough about Merle, Daryl could only imagine the clusterfuck that would come about if they thought Gabby was a mole.

He opened the door to the guard's perch and froze when he heard voices from the cell block below. From the cussing and the lazy backwoods drawl he knew one was Merle. He started down the stairs and relaxed slightly when he saw Rick standing in front of his brother's cell. He wasn't stupid enough to think that Rick was any fan of Merle's, hell, even he was hard-pressed to like Merle, and he was his brother! But Daryl knew Rick could keep a cool head about it all, the former Sheriff's Deputy had more than enough experience working with people like Merle after all.

"So what's in it fer me if I help ya?" Merle asked, leaning casually against the concrete wall. Daryl continued to edge closer towards his brother's cell, trying to peice together what was going on. From Merle's tone, Daryl knew his brother thought he had the upper hand. Dumb bastard. Rick was the one on the other side of the bars.

"Your life, your freedom. You let me know when you're ready to talk. I'm done playing games," Rick growled. He turned and saw Daryl and froze for a moment before averting his gaze and marching towards C Block.

"Hey! The fuck you goin'?" Merle hollered after him. Daryl rolled his eyes and Merle looked murderous. "What's that look for Darylena?" He sneered. Daryl glared at him and turned to start towards Gabby's cell. "Ya think yer better than me now, huh? Think yer somethin' special with these people, don'tcha? They even turned you against ol' Merle...yer own brother."

Daryl gritted his teeth and walked away, leaving his brother to rant to the ghosts in the cell block.

...

Maggie chewed her bottom lip thoughtfully, her furrowed eyebrows showcasing her skepticism. "I don't know about that Carol. The woman seems harmless. And if she worked for the Governor, why would he have her free one of our strongest people?" She argued.

"Maybe we should listen to her," Glenn interjected, causing Maggie's blue eyes to widen in shock. Glenn avoided her gaze and looked towards the older woman to continue.

"I don't mean to point fingers or anything, but why would someone risk it all to save someone when they have their life in Woodbury?" Carol said. "I don't care if you've known the person from before or not, it just doesn't make sense."

Glenn nodded slowly, pursing his lips as he considered Carol's argument.

"You can't be serious," Maggie hissed, lowering her voice. She glared at them pointedly as she noticed Beth and Carl hovering close by. "Have you stopped to think that maybe just one person in this fucked up world still has the moral fibre to step up and do the right thing?"

"Do you really want to take that chance?" Glenn whispered, catching the cue from Maggie that unwanted ears were lurking around them.

"Well I ain't gonna start falsely accusing someone who's done nothing but help us, and if you're right, what harm can she do in her cell? This is starting to look like the Randall situation all over again," Maggie shot back, glaring at Glenn and Carol. Both of them shifted uncomfortably like scolded school children, which only seemed to incense Maggie more. "And we all know how that ended up."

With that, Maggie stomped towards the cell she shared with Glenn, leaving her boyfriend and Carol red-faced.

...

Daryl approached Gabby's cell slowly. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, which was disarming. Was he nervous? He willed himself to calm down and stop being a pussy. He came to a stop in front of her cell and his jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw her bent nearly in half the wrong way.

"What the hell ya doin'?" Daryl blurted out, unable to disguise the horror in his voice.

Gabby opened one gray eye and calmly replied. "King Pigeon Pose," she replied serenely. "Yoga."

"Well, stop it. It's fuckin' weird," Daryl said. "Only other things I seen bend that way was walkers, and ya don't look like yer dead ta me."

Gabby took another slow breath and exhaled loudly before flattening herself out on the concrete floor and slowly rising to her feet and approaching the bars. "I've tried to keep myself in shape after everything...happened. It came in handy before we got to Woodbury."

Daryl winced. We? "I been meanin' to talk to ya about that," he began lamely. Gabby gave him a confused smile. Well, he supposed there was no way of asking without sounding like a jackass. "You married?"

Gabby's smile faltered, which ultimately answered his question for him. Gabby raked her hair with her left hand nervously, a habit she did when she was uncomfortable, Daryl noted. The gesture attracted his eye to two white gold bands, one displaying a brilliant diamond on her ring finger.

"Carol told you?" She asked softly.

Daryl gritted his teeth to bite back his anger. "Jus' fuckin' perfect," he growled, he turned away from her a moment and rounded to face her again. His mouth opened and closed, and he cursed under his breath.

It was Gabby's turn to get angry. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?" She demanded. "Did you think after all this time, I was still holding a torch for you, Daryl?" As soon as the words left her lips, she regretted them, of course he didn't.

"God, yer fuckin' stupid," Daryl retorted, his voice rising angrily. "How ya think the rest of the group is gonna take it when they find out yer fuckin' husband is workin' with that psycho in Woodbury, huh?"

Gabby recoiled. "Oh God...That's what you think? That I'm a Woodbury spy?" Her hands flew up to her mouth and her eyes widened in horror.

"Never said it was me," Daryl said, softening slightly.

Gabby lowered her hands from her face slowly. "Oh God, Daryl...you've got to talk to them. You've got to tell them I mean no harm," she pleaded, her voice taking on the shrill pitch of hysteria.

"They ain't gonna listen to some dumbass redneck like me," Daryl told her. "I'm the one who brought Merle back."

Gabby's eyes filled with tears. "You'll be fine. These people got sense," Daryl assured her.

...

Rick walked into C Block and saw Carol and Glenn huddled near Carol's cell, looking guilty. "I need you two to round up the others. We got some matters to discuss," he said.

Glenn exchanged glances with Carol, before nodding and hurrying off. Carol wrung her hands nervously, and after a moment's hesitation began to speak. "There's something you need to know about the woman Daryl brought back from Woodbury," she said softly.

"I don't have time for that right now," Rick said impatiently. "Now go and round up the others and meet me back here!" Carol recoiled slightly from Rick's harsh tone and gave him a small nod before scurrying off.

...

Daryl headed towards C Block. He had to find Rick before Carol went spouting her mouth off about Gabby. Maybe if he could get to him first, he can smooth over any paranoia that was sure to come about. As he made his way down the long corridor, he saw the very woman he was tryng to avoid. Carol seemed to have retreated back into herself, much like she was at the camp and the farm. He supposed he had something to do with it, and he pushed back the pang of guilt he felt.

"Rick's called a meeting," Carol said, her voice barely above a whisper. Her eyes met his for the briefest moment before averting back to the floor.

Daryl grunted in response and brushed past her, the guilty feeling still nagging at him. He was too mad at her to try and make things right with her right then, and Lord knows he wasn't one to talk about his feelings. But Carol had that way of understanding him without him having to say very much.

He entered Block C, with Carol trailing behind him and saw that Hershel, Maggie, Axel, Carl and Beth were standing close together. Tyreese and his group huddled off on their own, just close enough to be able to hear Rick speak without him yelling. Daryl took his place somewhere between the two groups. He had gotten closer to these people over the past year or so, but he still had his limits. And it gave him the chance to survey the people around him. Old hunting habit, he supposed. Carol continued past him and stood beside Beth and Judith. He noticed she made great effort not to look at Maggie, and Maggie returned the gesture. Before he had a chance to wonder where Glenn and Michonne were, they entered the Block. The black woman slinked in almost cat like, and Daryl knew she was watching the rest of the group just as much as he was.

After a moment, Rick began to speak. "I'm not going to beat around the bush," he said somberly. "We poked a bear back in Woodbury last night, and we are going to answer for it." Rick paused for a moment to let the group digest the information. "I don't know when or how, but we got a war on our hands. Now it's more important to stand together and fight to protect what's ours," he said.

Daryl was reminded of the speeches high school football coaches gave their teams in movies, but he nodded his agreement. This prison was theirs.

"You can't be serious," the mousey haired man with Tyreese's group piped in. Daryl watched as Rick's gaze darkened as he glared at the newcomer. Swallowing nervously, the man continued, ignoring Tyreese's quiet pleas. "I'm not dying for you people! I say we cut our losses and go! There's got to be somewhere else for us. Somewhere just as secure. Hell, we can make our own town, like Woodbury," he explained.

"We can't move, not with a baby. And Hershel gets along fine in here, but out there with the walkers... We can't take the risk," Rick argued.

The other man laughed shrilly. "Jesus, you really are crazy."

"Allen!" Tyreese hissed.

"No, Tyreese! I'm not letting this asshole call the shots for everyone here," Allen retorted, gesturing towards Rick.

"You shut your fuckin' mouth," Daryl warned, angrily. He instintively grabbed his crossbow that he kept slung on his shoulder.

"Now you hold up a minute!" Tyreese demanded, stepping between Daryl and Allen. "He didn't mean nothing by it. He's just scared. We all are."

"The hell I didn't! That guy right there," Allen said, pointing to Rick. Tyreese's face took on a look of horror. "I saw him in the boiler rooms, talking on the goddamn phone to no one!"


	12. Chapter 10: Turbulence

_A/N: Thank you for all the lovely reviews! Last chapter was a struggle for me, especially since I lost the original last half of what I wrote and I had to rewrite it...Gutwrenching! And Holy crappoly, almost 300 visitors this month! That's crazy!_

**Chapter 10: Turbulence**

If it hadn't been for the look on Hershel's face, Daryl would have called bullshit on Allen's revelation. While a chorus of shocked gasps rang out from the prison's stunned inhabitants, Daryl scanned the expressions on the faces surrounding him. Everyone aside from Allen, Tyreese and Hershel wore the same slack-jawed, wide-eyed look on their faces. Hershel pressed his lips together to form a grim line across his weathered face. The old man's blue eyes lowered sadly to the ground.

Rick had damn near visibly shrunk on the spot, solidifying Daryl's conclusion. He felt his heart hammering in his rib cage and his breathing became laboured as he tried to control his rage when he caught a glimpse of the scrawny, mousey-haired man's triumphant smirk. Setting his crossbow on the ground, and acting on instinct, Daryl lunged at the newcomer. He heard the grunt come out of the man as his shoulder made contact with his gut, sending them both tumbling to the ground.

He ignored the angry yells and the horrified screams that sounded out around him as he braced himself on his knees over top of Allen and cocked his arm back. He landed one solid punch to the man's jaw, before he felt two large hands grab his arms and yank him to his feet. Daryl flailed, kicking his legs at the man who laid bleeding on the ground. He bucked backwards against the man holding him back, but it was useless. He was out muscled.

"Calm the fuck down," Tyreese hissed in his ear. Daryl flailed in one last attempt to wriggle free and grunted in pain as the large black man bent one of his arms behind his back, driving his hand up towards his shoulder. "Are you done?" Tyreese asked, wrenching his arm just a little higher when Daryl didn't answer.

"Yes! Fuck!" Daryl growled. The black man loosened his grip on Daryl and he straightened up, panting. The tendons in his right shoulder were stretched to capacity and he rotated his shoulder to try and work out the pain. He looked toward Allen, who moved into a seated position with Tyreese's sister checking out his bleeding lip. She gave Daryl an accusatory glare and continued prodding at his lip, assessing the damage.

Daryl made a step towards his crossbow and Tyreese stepped in front of him. He was a mammoth of a man, his years in the NFL and as a bouncer left him as solid as a brick shit house, compared to Daryl's average physique. Daryl gave him a steely glare and stepped around the man, before scooping up the Horton Scout and slinging it on his shoulder. He glanced over at Rick, who looked unsteady on his feet, his slumped shoulders heaving as he took in every gasping breath.

Daryl looked around his group, searching their faces for anyone Carl was fighting to put on the same brave face he wore since he watched his mother die. He was a tough little bastard. He had come along way from the annoying little brat who had a deathwish on the farm. He stared at his father, and Daryl knew he was trying not to believe what he had just found out. Everyone else stared at the floor uncomfortably, refusing to make eye contact with him. Daryl's lip curled into a disgusted sneer as he slowly paced the floor.

"No one got nothin' to say?" He challenged angrily. "We let these people in_ our house_, and you jus' gonna let 'em destroy everything we worked so hard for?" His yells echoed throughout the cell block.

"Hey, we want to work with you!" Tyreese protested.

"Yeah? Well, you and yer boy there sure got a funny way of showin' it," Daryl retorted. "Makin' shit up and stickin' his nose where it don't belong."

Daryl watched as the black man gave Allen a warning glare to remain silent and turned back to face Daryl with an apologetic look on his face. "Look," Tyreese began. "We want to contribute. We will help fortify this place, gather supplies, defend it. You name it, we'll do it. Allen here didn't mean anything by it. He just lost his wife yesterday..."

Daryl nodded as he processed the information. With Woodbury's retaliation still looming, he knew they needed all the hands available to them.

Every last one.

"This meeting is over," Daryl announced, leaving everyone in stunned silence as he stalked out of the cell block.

...

Daryl lined up the new bolts he had fashioned from the sticks and feathers he had gathered on their travels. One by one he gave the bolts another close inspection, running his fingers up and down them, looking for any dent or divot that could interfere with their accuracy before placing them in the holders of his bow. He had lost his quiver in Woodbury and made a mental note to find something to fashion one out of.

He heard a rhythmic clicking sound coming from down below. Slinging the crossbow on his shoulder, he stood up and made his way down the staircase to meet Hershel.

The old man looked weary as he gave Daryl a grim nod. "Allen was right, you know," Hershel said, leaning against the bars of an empty cell. "About Rick."

Daryl chewed his thumbnail and nodded. "I know," he replied. Hershel looked confused. "Don't mean I ain't gonna stand by him. He jus' needs to work things out, s'all."

"You're a good friend, Daryl," Hershel said softly, gazing at him with his watery blue eyes.

Those words had surprised Daryl; in his 36 years, he'd been accused of a lot of things, but being a good friend wasn't one of them. He supposed Gabby had a few nice things to say to him here and there way back when and he found himself fighting back a smile at the thought.

"I said it before and I'll say it again. Rick's done alright by me," Daryl responded, feigning interest in one of the bolts he had made. "And he's right, The Governor is comin', and we'd be wise to prepare ourselves for it."

"I know we do," Hershel said. "That's the reason why I came out here. We're gonna need everyone to contribute, especially given my condition." The old man adjusted his crutches under his arms. "I wanted to talk to you about Merle."

Daryl bristled. "What about him?" He asked cautiously. "He ain't gonna do much locked up in a cage."

"Exactly, I think it's time we let him out."

...

"You and Hershel decided WHAT?"

Glenn was angrier than anyone had ever seen him, and Daryl was beginning to wish that he hadn't decided that informing Glenn that they were planning to release Merle and Gabby from their cells before actually doing it. "Shoot first, fuck the questions, little brother," Merle used to say.

"Glenn, be reasonable," Hershel pleaded.

"You be reasonable!" Glenn yelled, rounding on the old man. "After what he did to me, and Maggie? He served your daughter up on a platter to that psycho!"

"Stop it!" Maggie shouted. She advanced on Glenn and the young Korean man stopped in his tracks. "You don't get to speak for me anymore! What happened to me in Woodbury is my story to tell if I want to, and I don't. So you shut your mouth Glenn Rhee!"

Glenn's jaw dropped in shock and his demeanor softened. "Maggie, I'm sorry, I - I was just trying to help. I - what happened -"

"SHUT UP!" Maggie screamed. "I don't want your pity." With her eyes welled up with tears, she gave Glenn a disgusted look and stormed off.

"No one is going to be happy about this," Glenn warned before casting Daryl a dark look and hurrying after his distraught girlfriend.

"Well," Hershel sighed. "That went over well." Daryl grunted in response. "And Daryl? I trust you to keep your brother in check," Hershel said sternly. "If he so much puts a toe out of line, he goes back in the cell, you hear me?"

"He ain't no damn dog," Daryl grumbled. Hershel gave him a warning glare. "Yeah, yeah I hear ya."

...

Daryl made his way back to D Block. He knew the news of Merle's pending release wouldn't be received well, and he couldn't blame them. After that number he did on Glenn, it's amazing the kid has any face left. One thing Daryl was certain of, was that Merle wouldn't have had any idea what the Governor had planned to do to Maggie. Whatever that was. Merle was a lot of things, but he sure as hell ain't no rapist. He had never laid a hand on any woman in his life. Merle's morality was predominantly a grey area, and no one would ever accuse him of being a gentleman, but he'd never cross that line.

Hell, the last time Merle was arrested before the world went to hell was when he beat the shit out Ronnie Jenkins who had gotten too friendly with Sue Reynolds in the bar parking lot one night. Sue might have been the town bicycle, but whatever Ronnie was trying to sell her that night, she wasn't buying. She was damn lucky him and Merle got thrown out when they did...

Daryl smiled to himself when he remembered how pissed off the old Sheriff was when Ronnie refused to press charges. The fucker had a hard-on for Merle since he was booked for vandalism in the 7th grade.

Daryl's thoughts quickly switched to Rick who had disappeared after the disasterous meeting, just a few short hours quickly dismissed any concern he had for the man. Rick knew how to take care of himself. He just needed a little tme to get things sorted. Daryl found himself wishing he had landed more than one punch to that little asshole's face from Tyreese's group.

He decided to wait until morning before talking to Merle. It was getting late and he was too exhausted for any potential issues that might come out of his chat with his older brother. He was pissed enough about being locked up in a cell, he sure as hell won't like being babysat by his younger brother.

Daryl groaned as he lowered himself onto the mattress in the guard's office he'd dragged in there earlier. He wasn't looking forward to the morning at all.


	13. Chapter 11: Eve of Destruction

_A/N: Wowie! I got a few new reviewers and followers and favouriters! Thank you thank you thank you! I have to admit, I am not hip to fanfic lingo so if someone wants to tell me what "whump" or "womp", __"lemons" (other than it being a natural energizer and refreshing additive to water, or tasty with seafood), I would be mucho appreciato. Yeah I make up words sometimes._

___I will forewarn you now that if my writing becomes really dark, it's because I recently REdiscovered Alkaline Trio and I am fangirling the hell out of them right now. And their songs can be pretty messed up. Don't believe me? Youtube "This Could be Love" and listen to the words. EFFED. But so good._

___Also, sorry it took so long to update, but this chapter is monstrously long!_

**Chapter 11: Eve of Destruction**

_Don't you understand what I'm tryin' to say?_  
_Can't you feel the fears I'm feelin' today?_  
_If the button is pushed, there's no runnin' away,_  
_There'll be no one to save, with the world in a grave._  
_(Take a look around ya boy, it's bound to scare ya boy)_

_And you tell me_ o_ver and over and over again, my friend_  
_Ah, you don't believe_ w_e're on the eve_ _of destruction._

_- Eve of Destruction, Barry McGuire_

Merle snored loudly on the lumpy bottom bunk. His head was as far back as his neck would allow and his mouth hung open, displaying tobacco-yellowed teeth and dark silver fillings and caps he had compiled over the years from poor dental hygiene. Daryl fought a grin when he remembered how he used to amuse himself as a kid by trying to toss little bits of paper or even Legos in Merle's mouth when he would pass out on the couch in some drug-addled stupor. He recalled the time he damn near killed the asshole when he managed to sink a small square block at the exact moment that Merle inhaled.

After the choking and gasping subsided and Merle had managed to swallow the small piece of plastic down, Daryl took off like a bat out of hell to avoid his big brother's wrath. He hung out in the woods behind their house for a few hours to let Merle cool off. He subconsciously rubbed at the small scar hidden in the hairs of his left eyebrow he had received when he was brave enough to return home.

Daryl fished the set of keys from the pockets of his olive drab cargo pants he'd scooped up at an army surplus store during their travels. Most of the ammo and weapons were looted, save for a few knives they snatched up so everyone could be armed, but Daryl was glad to have stumbled upon some good sturdy clothes that could take a beating. He hesitated at the cell door before deciding that Merle would kick his ass even more than he would now if he found out that Daryl had keys to his cell from the start and began the tedious task of figuring out which key opened the cell.

A loud snort from inside the cell made Daryl freeze. On second thought, there was no harm in allowing himself a few more hours of peace. The loud, steady rumbling coming from his brother's sleeping form assured Daryl that he could still slip away unnoticed. He ignored the pangs of guilt he felt as he walked away from his brother's cell, though he wasn't sure if was due to the fact that he was leaving him there, or the nagging thought in the back of his mind that told him everything would have been so much easier if he hadn't run into Merle at all. Without Merle crossing their path, Maggie and Glenn would have returned from the supply run and they would not have had to go to Woodbury and they would be able to live undetected and peacefully inside the prison.

Daryl shook his head and pushed the thoughts as far down in his subconscious as he could manage. He was happy to see Merle again, he was his brother, even if he sometimes made things hard for him. One thing he was certain of was that though Merle was an asshole, he wasn't a suicidal asshole, and he wouldn't try anything in a group full of people who would be waiting for the first opportunity to put a bullet between his eyes. While that won't win him any popularity contests, it had to count for something. And Merle was a tough son of a bitch and they could use his muscle if Woodbury were to launch a retaliation.

Daryl slowed down as he approached Gabby's cell. That damned Carol had made sure integrating Gabby into the group wouldn't be as easy as he thought it would have been, once the dust settled a bit, but she was a hell of a lot more pleasant than Merle. Easier on the eyes, too. She was probably the only person in the world who looked even remotely attractive when sleeping, he noted. He sighed as he started sifting through the key ring, praying that the rest of the group would play nicely today.

...

The sound of clinking metal on metal jolted Gabby awake and she sat up quickly. She looked towards the noise and relaxed when saw Daryl cursing under his breath as he was trying key after key in the door of her cell.

"Mornin' sleeping beauty," he mumbled. She hid a smile and looked away and his face took on the look of horror when he realized what he said. Gabby approached the bars and saw the flush of crimson spread across Daryl's cheeks as he gritted his teeth and avoided her amused gaze.

Gabby decided to save the man any more embarrassment and quickly moved on. "Are you springing me from prison, Mr. Dixon?" She asked. Daryl made a face at the formal address.

"Mr. Dixon was my father's name and he was a dick," Daryl grumbled. He flashed her a small smile to show he was grateful that she changed the subject. "And yer gettin' early parole fer good behaviour, if I ever find the damn key."

"Is it safe?" Gabby blurted out. Daryl quirked an eyebrow at her and it was her turn to blush. "I mean...I guess I didn't really gain any friends yesterday with my deep, dark secret, huh?" She wiggled the fingers on her left hand emphatically, displaying her wedding rings. She thought she saw Daryl's expression darken, but he quickly recovered.

"Yeah, well, a little heads up would have nice," Daryl said, refocusing on the keys.

It was Gabby's turn to raise an eyebrow at him. "Just when would have been a good time for that?" She demanded, feeling her temper rise. "'Hey, Daryl, I know I just rescued you from the arena but you should know, I'm married.' Or, 'excuse me, biters, but I gotta tell Daryl here that I'm married, so please refrain from making me your lunch.' Or, here's a good one, 'people in Daryl's group holding me at gun point, let me interrupt you for a moment to tell everyone that I'm married and my husband lives in Woodbury.'"

"Okay, I get it," Daryl snapped. He swore loudly as he jammed another key into the cell door. An audible click told him he was successful and he swung the door open, making a point not to look at Gabby.

"I'm sorry," Gabby said. She made no move for the door. "I shouldn't have snapped at you like that. In all the confusion and crazy shit happening, there wasn't really time to catch up. Honestly, everything was sort of a blur when I saw you in Woodbury and I just reacted."

Daryl allowed his eyes to meet hers. "Well, thanks," he said stiffly.

Gabby hesitated in the door way of her cell. "I guess I never allowed you to answer me, is it...safe for me to come out?"

"These are good people here, jus' scared. They won't do nothin' to you," Daryl assured her. "And once I let Merle out, you ain't even gonna be on the radar no more." Gabby smiled at that and nodded before taking a tentative step out of her cell, she looked both ways down the long cell block to make sure they were alone.

"And I suppose I got you to protect me, right?" Gabby teased gently.

Daryl snorted and felt the heat rise in his cheeks again. "I ain't nobody's babysitter," he mumbled.

"So, when are you letting your brother out?" Gabby asked.

Daryl chuckled lightly. "I guess I should soon, but I'll let everyone enjoy their breakfast first."

...

Carol whisked the powdered egg concoction while the small propane camp stove heated the skillet, they tried to conserve the eggs as much as possible, but she was getting sick of bland oatmeal, and figured the rest of the group would appreciate a treat as well. They did most of their cooking in the prison on the small Coleman stove they'd collected shortly after the farm. Before they settled, they'd use the camp stove on the days the weather wouldn't allow for a fire, but since finding the prison, they found themselves using it more often to conserve the fuel for the generators as much as possible.

She dumped half the mixture into the skillet and the pan sizzled loudly. She grabbed the spatula and pushed the congealing eggs around until they were firm and dumped the first batch into a clean bowl and repeated the process with the rest of the eggs.

Once the last batch of eggs had finished cooking, she placed the bowl on the table and started dividing the meal between the bowls, ensuring that everyone would get some breakfast. She counted the bowls and started rhyming off names silently in her head, using her fingers to keep count as she went along. Satisfied she got it right, she grabbed her bowl and started for her cell, so she could keep an eye on Judith.

She stopped in her tracks when she saw Daryl enter the cell block with the Woodbury woman behind him. She quickly ducked her head and pressed her lips together in some semblance of a smile and headed for her cell.

"There's eggs on the table," she called out behind her, as she ducked inside one of the cells.

Gabby bit her lip uncomfortably and Daryl rolled his eyes. "C'mon, grab yerself a bowl," he said, helping himself to a bowl and a plastic Spork. Beth and Carl had been endlessly amused by the cutlery available in the prison and Daryl had to admit, the spoon/fork hybrid was rather ridiculous. The tines that made it fork-like were laughable at best and served only a cosmetic purpose.

"Did I hear there were eggs?"

Gabby startled at the voice and nearly dropped the bowl she had retrieved off the table. She looked towards the source and saw the asian man with the badly bruised face staring at her and Daryl.

"I suppose that asshole is out too?" Glenn asked coldly.

Daryl scowled. "Lay off it," he growled, his lip twitching slightly in anger. He scooped up another bowl and placed his Spork between his teeth and grabbed another utensil before turning towards D Block.

Gabby went to follow Daryl but halted when she heard a gentle, gravelly voice. "Hold up a minute, young lady," the old man Gabby saw outside the prison hobbled out of his cell on crutches. Gabby paused uncertainly and looked towards Daryl, who gave her an indifferent shrug.

"Don't worry, I won't bite ya, and in times like these, what else can you ask for? " the man joked, gently. Gabby gave him a faint smile. She glanced at Daryl and nodded at him and he continued towards the other cell block. "My name is Hershel Greene. Mind grabbing me a bowl? My hands are a little full these days." Hershel gently lowered himself down on the metal stair case and propped his crutches up against the railing.

Gabby grabbed another bowl and Spork and brought it over to Hershel. The old man scooted over and patted the stair beside him. Gabby hesitantly sat down in the tight space, trying not to allow herself to become too uncomfortable with her proximity to the kind faced stranger. He seemed nice enough, but she was charmed by a wolf in sheep's clothing before by The Governor in Woodbury. She tried to push the thought out of her head. Upon their arrival to Woodbury, The Governor had been more than accommodating to her and Travis.

They had exhausted all "safe-zone" options before stumbling on the small settlement by accident. They were whisked inside the walls and given water, food and shelter. The man who ran the place had a handsome face and a charming smile. Maybe she was too exhausted to erect any red flags when the man had introduced himself as The Governor. The town was safe and the supplies were _luxurious_ compared to what they had on the road, and it was far easier to brush away the warning signs that seemed all too obvious to her now.

She shuddered inwardly as she remembered how desperate Travis was to impress The Governor. How he and James desperately wanted to be a part of the elite group of soldiers that were closest to The Governor. Were they aware that their leader was in the business of kidnapping people? That he condoned death matches between brothers? What else was he capable of? Maybe all she knew about Woodbury was just the tip of the iceberg that sunk the Titanic. What other secrets lie below the surface?

"You aren't eating your eggs," Hershel observed, pulling Gabby from her thoughts. "You know, at times like these, it's a sin to be wasteful."

Gabby blushed and saw a gentle smile on Hershel's lips underneath the white beard. She tipped the contents of her bowl into Hershel's. "Do you believe in God?" She asked.

Hershel scooped another bite of eggs into his mouth and chewed thoughtfully. "A few months ago, I'd have scolded you for even daring to ask. Now? I can't bear the thought that everything you see outside of the walls has anything to do with God's plan."

...

"Merle!" Daryl hissed. He stood over his brother's sleeping form, holding a bowl of eggs in each hand. If he didn't know for a fact otherwise, he would have figured Merle was sleeping off one of his many benders he'd go on when the world was normal. He almost snorted in laughter at the thought. Man, he had a fucked up idea of normal. He raised a foot and gently nudged Merle with his foot to try to jostle him awake, but the older Dixon merely grunted and swatted at him like he were a fly and continued snoring.

Daryl sighed and tried again, putting more force behind his foot, staying just shy of a full-out hoofing. Merle snorted and his blue eyes flew open as he sat up quickly and unceremoniously smacked his head on the bars of the top bunk.

"Fuck me sideways," Merle groaned, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping his good hand over the spreading red welt spreading across his forehead. He forced one eye open and glared at Daryl who was fighting back a fit of laughter.

"Dumbass," Daryl muttered. "Here, got you some breakfast."

"I ain't eating none of that slop," Merle grumbled as he hunched over on the bed, still cradling his throbbing head.

Daryl shrugged. "Alright, more eggs fer me." He began to tip Merle's bowl into his own.

"Now, hold up little brother," Merle interrupted, perking up. "You sayin' that ain't oatmeal?"

Daryl rolled his eyes and passed his brother the bowl. Merle balanced the bowl on his lap and grabbed the utensil hanging out of it. "It takes one asshole to stab another with a fork and we get stuck with these goofy little things," Merle lamented disdainfully as he looked over the Spork.

"Hell, it was probably you who done it," Daryl shot back.

Merle shoveled in a mouthful of egg and smiled broadly. "Fucker deserved it too," he cracked, rifling in more bites of food.

Daryl eyed him carefully and began to speak. "Was talkin' with the others and we figured we could use your muscle 'round here, especially since The Governor is gonna be comin' for us." The moment his words left his lips, Daryl knew he said the wrong thing.

Merle raised his eyebrows at Daryl. "Did ya now?" He patronized. " I s'pose you and yer new friends got it all worked out huh?"

"I didn't mean it like that," Daryl argued. "Damn it Merle, you wanted out of yer cell and I gotcha out."

Merle ran his tongue along the inside of his bottom lip as he always did when he was contemplating something. "Huh," he grunted, smiling humourlessly. "You really think they're gonna roll out the welcome mat fer me?"

It wasn't exactly a question and Daryl wasn't sure how to answer it. Merle hadn't earned himself any friends within these walls, and he had a good feeling that if Rick was in a better state of mind and hadn't disappeared after the meeting the night before, Hershel would not have been so accommodating of his brother. Out of them all, Hershel was the most level-headed and reasonable of them all, but it was because of Merle he'd nearly lost his oldest daughter.

"Ain't got a choice," Daryl said stated finally.

Merle snorted. "And everyone always said you had the brains outa the two of us."

...

Gabby grabbed Hershel's empty bowl and placed it in the basin that was on the floor beside the table. Before she could turn around and help him to his feet she saw that the old farmer (as she had learned from their conversation) was already up on his crutches.

"It's my understanding that you got some people around here spooked," Hershel said.

Gabby shrugged awkwardly. "I...guess they have their reasons," she replied carefully.

Hershel smiled. "Don't worry, dear, you're not on trial. Come with me and I will introduce you to everyone. See if we can't change that." He turned and started hobbling towards one of the cells behind the staircase. Gabby smiled and decided that she liked the old man as she started after him.

She slowed her pace when she saw that Hershel had stopped at a cell containing a pretty little blond girl, who couldn't have been much more than 15 or 16 years old. "This is my youngest daughter, Beth," Hershel said. "Bethy, this is Daryl's friend, Gabby."

Beth smiled shyly at her and gave her a small wave that Gabby returned. "I think it's really great, what you did for Daryl," she said.

Gabby blushed. "I would like to think that if the situation was reversed, he'd do the same."

A loud wail sounded throughout the cell block and Gabby's jaw dropped. "Is that -?" She began. She started toward the sound, and as if on cue, Carol stepped out of her cell cradling a swaddled bundle. Gabby stopped and gaped at the woman, dumbfounded. "You have a baby?" Gabby gasped, her fingers brushing her lips as she covered her mouth.

Carol bounced the crying baby and eyed the other woman carefully. "She's not mine, but, yes, we do," she said softly.

Before she could stop herself, Gabby advanced towards Carol and failed to notice the older woman stiffening slightly. "May I?" Gabby asked, craning her neck to get a better look around Carol's protective arms.

Carol looked behind Gabby, presumably at Hershel and relaxed slightly. Gabby only guessed she had gotten the old man's blessing, because the woman held the baby in a more open position.

"Oh, she is beautiful," Gabby breathed, gingerly stroking the baby's chubby cheek with the knuckle of her pointer finger.

"You can hold her if you'd like," Hershel said from behind her, causing Carol's eyes to snap up from the baby in surprise. "Her name is Judith."

"Oh, I would love to. But if you're not okay with it," Gabby said, holding her arms out tentatively.

Carol hesitated and slowly lowered the infant into Gabby's outstretched arms. Gabby shifted the baby's weight in her arms, and tucked an errant stand of hair behind her ear. She lowered her face to the baby and inhaled. There was something so comforting about the scent of babies that she couldn't quite place, as she had never had one herself.

"Daryl calls her lil' Asskicker," Beth offered, sidling up beside Gabby and gently lifted the baby's tiny fist with her finger.

Gabby let out a laugh. "Yeah, that sounds like Daryl." She saw the little blonde's blue eyes light up.

"So you did know Daryl before this, then?" Beth affirmed.

"Beth!" Hershel scolded.

"Sorry Daddy," Beth mumbled.

Gabby raised an eyebrow at Carol, who avoided her gaze and Gabby guessed that she had neglected to tell the others that Gabby had told her that she was from Daryl's hometown. To be fair, she hadn't been entirely truthful about the nature of her familiarity of Daryl, but that was more for Daryl's benefit than hers. Daryl had been a private person way back then and she imagined it hadn't changed over the years.

"It's okay, Hershel," Gabby said, giving the girl a small smile. She decided to hell with it and came clean. "We used to date, actually, when I was about your age." She gently rocked the baby, who was grunting slightly as she was fighting off sleep.

Beth's eyes widen. "Shut up!" She gasped.

Even Carol seemed a little shocked, but remained quiet, although Gabby could tell she was trying to not look interested.

"Did you love him?" Beth asked, eagerly, her blue eyes wide. Gabby felt the heat rise to her cheeks.

"Beth," Hershel warned.

The teen rolled her eyes and gave Gabby a small smile. Gabby winked at her and looked back down at the baby, stroking her cheek once last time before offering her back to Carol.

"Come on, Gabby. Let me introduce you to Glenn and Maggie and then we will head outside so you can meet Axel," Hershel said as he passed her. "And if we see any other of the newcomers along the way, but I 'm not so good with names in my old age."

...

_I was going to continue, but I was eager to post this, so I cut it short. :) Reviews are my favourite!_


	14. Chapter 12: Breach

_A/N: Mucho gracias to my lovely reviewers! And the FEELS after "Clear". (Sidenote: I laughed my ass off at the ending...yes, I am aware that makes me a horrible person. ) Holy crap it's been like 2 weeks(?) since I updated. I am sorry, y'all!_

**Chapter 12: Breach**

"You'll have to forgive my daughter," Hershel said as he swung himself out the door Gabby held open for him. The introduction to Glenn and Maggie had been lukewarm at best, and that was being generous, Gabby tried not to take it personally. Glenn's face vaguely resembled ground hamburger from the damage inflicted on him in Woodbury, and he'd merely given her a curt nod at Hershel's introduction. His almond eyes shot daggers at her as he sized her up, working out the threat she posed in his mind. Maggie at least managed to muster a weak smile as she retrieved her breakfast from the round table before retreating back to her cell.

Gabby smiled warmly at the old man as she shaded the sun from her eyes with her hand. The contrast between the darkness of the prison and the brightness of the sun outside was blinding and it took her a few moments to get her bearings back. "It's fine," she assured him. "She is just being a typical teenager. Lord knows how I was when I was her age."

"Well I appreciate that, but she knows better," Hershel said, squinting in the sun. "I have reminded her that your business is not hers to tell, so I'm sure that means everyone knows by now."

Gabby smiled at that and the two continued towards the watch tower. "Now it's my turn to be nosey," Gabby began. "How did you lose your leg? A farming accident?"

Hershel chortled at that. "Heavens no. I got bit," he replied casually. Gabby slowed to a stop, gaping at him, dumbfounded. He was the first person she had heard of surviving a bite wound. The old man paused, seeming to know what had the woman so perplexed. "I'm lucky Rick is a quick thinker. He cut off the bad part of my leg before the infection had time to spread. Although I guess that is not really an accurate description, seeing as we all carry the virus."

Gabby gasped and her hands flew up to her mouth instinctively. Understanding dawned on Hershel and he immediately looked sympathetic. "I'm sorry, I forgot that there was a good chance you hadn't known that," he explained.

Gabby shook her head in disbelief. "No, that can't be right. You have to get bit to turn into one of those things. I've _seen_ it!" She argued, shaking her head vehemently.

"I'm sorry," the old man repeated. "When we pass on, we come back as walkers." He leaned on his right crutch and put a comforting hand on her shoulder.

Gabby took in a few shaky breaths as she tried to process the information. Brushing away the panicky tears forming in her eyes with her hands, she composed herself and continued in the direction they were heading.

"Who are Judith's parents?" Gabby asked, trying to deflect her thoughts from Hershel's grim revelation.

"Rick and Lori," Hershel replied, sullenly. "Lori didn't make it."

Gabby nodded, and placed a comforting hand on Hershel's shoulder.

...

Merle's belch rang out through the empty cell block and he placed his empty bowl on his bunk beside him. "Those eggs tasted like shit," he complained.

Daryl swallowed his final bite of breakfast. "You see? That's it right there," Daryl sighed, frustrated. Merle looked confused and he continued, "things wouldn't be so goddamn hard if ya just stop bein' such an asshole all the time."

Merle scoffed. "Now, now Darylena, don't get your panties in a bunch. I'll play nice with your little friends," he drawled sweetly. "Maybe I'll find myself a _gee-tar _and we can sit around the campfire singin' Kumbaya." Merle rose from the bunk and stretched. "'Sides, ain't like they gotta put up with me fer long anyhow."

Merle stepped out of his cell and turned back to his brother expectantly. "Where you shackin' up, little brother?" He asked peering down the cell block, looking for any sign of where Daryl had set up camp.

"Guard office, upstairs," Daryl replied. frowning as he watched his brother make his way to the stairs, skipping every other step. Daryl sighed and started after him. "What the hell you doin'?"

"I'm savin' your ass, little brother," Merle answered, shoving Daryl's scattered belongings in the duffel bag looped around his handless arm. "You and me are headin' out on our own; how it should have been right from the start, before the Governor steamrolls through this place."

"I ain't leavin'," Daryl informed him.

Merle snorted, and looked up from the duffel bag. His smile faded when he saw Daryl leaning against the door of the guard office with his arms crossed defiantly. "Jesus, Daryl, you ain't serious?" Merle asked incredulously.

"Dead," Daryl answered, his jaw set.

Merle set the bag down and straightened up slowly, staring hard at his younger brother. "You meanin' to tell me these people are worth dyin' for?" He demanded, walking up to Daryl so they were nearly nose-to-nose.

Daryl pushed his shoulder off the door and straightened up, meeting Merle's challenge. Merle had him beat by almost an inch, and although Daryl was broader shouldered than Merle, he wasn't sure he could beat Merle in a real fight if it ever came down to it. Hell, those two beat the shit out each regularly, but that was just dumb sibling rivalry, and that usually happened when they were drunk.

Merle smirked and shook his head. "You're a damn fool, little brother," he sneered.

Daryl's glare followed him out of the office.

...

Sasha stretched and sleepily stumbled out of her cell. She had slept in later than she intended after whispering into the wee hours of the morning with Tyreese over Allen's revelation about Rick. He was mad as hell with their friend, and refused to even look at Allen. Sasha could see both sides of the argument, Allen's discovery didn't sit well with her, but she knew how much Tyreese begged the other group to let them stay and how much he was willing to do to ensure they earned their keep at the prison.

They were to provide their own food and water so they weren't a burden on the prison's resources and they were to share watch duties. All in all, it was a sweet deal. Far better than any other they have come across. There was one group of about 30 men they ran into while on a supply run who seemed accommodating enough, but it took Tyreese only a few minutes to politely decline their offer to join them.

She remembered how he frantic he was when he had ordered everyone to pack up camp and head out after that run-in. She had tried to get Tyreese to rethink it, the men had weapons, food, medication and it wasn't until Tyreese had everyone up and moving that he quietly told her of his suspicions about the group and the way their eyes wandered over her body and never seemed to leave even though they were talking to him.

Sasha trusted her brother's instincts. His years of people-watching as a bouncer in bars had given him the keen sense of knowing who the trouble makers were from even the quickest of conversations.

She remembered the horror she felt when they had come across a few survivors that had managed to escape that very same group just days after they encountered them. The unspeakable things they did to women made her blood run cold and she promised herself to never doubt Tyreese again.

"He is a broken man, not a dangerous one," Tyreese assured her when she voiced her concerns about Rick.

That was good enough for her.

...

Gabby found herself adjusting her tank top after meeting Axel. He seemed nice enough, but the way his eyes raked over her gave her the distinct impression that it had been quite a while since he had a seen a woman and he hadn't quite adjusted to it yet.

Hershel noticed her discomfort and gave her a wink. "He's harmless, I promise. He's our resident Pepe LePew," he joked.

Gabby hadn't realized Hershel stopped laughing with her until she noticed that he had stopped a few yards back. Confused, she followed his gaze out beyond the double fence. In the distance she saw a man walking through the long grass. "Hershel?" She asked uncertainly as she walked back over to him.

"I'm going for a walk," he said grimly. "Care to join me?"

...

Daryl followed Merle into Block C. He wasn't quite prepared for the family reunion quite yet, especially with Merle being all pissed off like he was, but he supposed it was best to get the niceties done and over with. He just hoped that damned ninja woman with the sword wasn't around. Merle had a horrible habit of pissing off the wrong damn people. A black samurai wouldn't lose sleep over cutting down a racist redneck like Merle.

He hustled after Merle after pausing to ready his crossbow, deciding it would be best to prepare for the worst, or in his brother's case, the inevitable.

"Well, shit," Merle called out to the empty corridor. Daryl relaxed slightly, everyone seemed to still be hanging around in their cells, if he was lucky, he could stop Merle from opening his fool mouth again. "Andrea said you lost people, but it looks like it's just you and me left, little brother."

"Shut up Mer - what?" Daryl demanded after Merle's words clicked. One by one, everyone emerged from their cells, wearing the same thunderstruck expressions that Daryl was sure he had on his own face.

"What the hell did he just say?" Glenn asked Daryl. It seemed that he had taken to talking to Merle through Daryl, and it was already getting tired.

"I ain't your damn messenger boy, ask'im yourself!" Daryl growled.

He saw the chesire cat smile creep over Merle's lips. God, he loved being a shit disturber. Daryl knew he was relishing the wide-eyed stares the group was giving, everyone except Michonne, who had slunk out of her cell looking rather bored and Tyreese's people, who lurked cautiously on the out skirts.

"Y'all remember blondie, don'tcha?" Merle taunted. "I ran inta her and Michonne here, and she's been shacking up with the Governor ever since."

"He's lying," Carol said determinedly. "Andrea would never."

Merle's grin widened even further and for the first time since Daryl encountered Michonne, her face betrayed her. "It's true, ain't it?" He asked her.

She scowled at him and looked away.

"Damn right, it's true," Merle continued. "Took her only a couple hours before she drank the kool-aid and bought everything ol' Phillip was sellin' her. And before I could get my turn with her, they started bumpin' uglies."

All hell broke loose. Michonne launched herself at Merle, and Daryl launched himself at Michonne. He hooked his left arm around her thin waist and disabled her other arm with his right before she could reach for her katana. He underestimated her strength and he had to overcompensate and they both tumbled hard to the concrete floor, his crossbow slamming hard into his spine painfully. He couldn't help but be thankful he wasn't a dumbass and always ensure the safety mechanism was on, or else he'd be sporting an arrow through one of his ass cheeks.

"Easy now," he grunted, bearing his weight down over the struggling woman. "I don't mean to hurt ya." Michonne glared fiercely at him and after a moment stopped resisting.

Breathing hard, Daryl gave Michonne an apologetic nod and sat back on his knees, trying to get his bearings before rising to his feet. He offered his hand to the black woman, but she looked mutinous and she rolled away and nimbly righted herself before stalking out to D Block.

"Well, that was fun!" Merle chortled. Before he could get wound up again, a baby's cry rang out through the cell, causing his grin to fade slowly from his lips.

...

Gabby opted to give Hershel and Rick some space while they talked through the fence about whatever it was that had Hershel so concerned. She took few steps away and observed the sprawling prison grounds, impressed. It was a wonder how such a small group could reclaim something as large as this , especially when it was surely over-run.

Before she could give it too much thought, a loud crack broke the peaceful silence and she flung herself into the long grass. She covered her ears, trying to drown out the deafening and terrifying sound of gunfire. She bit her lip to stop from screaming and carefully turned her head around, trying to get a glimpse of the direction the assault was coming from. Through the long grass she had no way of knowing if Hershel was alive or if Rick had made it. She shifted and glanced at the watch tower, and to her horror watched as Axel's limp form fell over the guard rails and plummeted to hard, dry earth below.

...

_I'm sorry again for the delay! I try not to rewrite the show, and I do apologize for this, it won't happen TOO much, I promise._


	15. Chapter 13: The Calm After the Storm

_A/N: This wasn't the original plan for this chapter. I got stuck, so I rewrote. Also my real life is a crazy whirlwind right now, and I'm ready to Hulk-Smash the shit out of everyone. SMH._

_I've noticed the less frequent I update the more reviews I get for a chapter! Hmmmmmmm..._

_Not to be spoiler-y but the Season Finale was rather disappointing._

_Dear Lord, please let this be the day (April 2) that this gets updated...stupid real life getting in the way...and falling asleep at my keyboard..._

**Chapter 13: The Calm After the Storm**

Gabby shakily lowered herself on her bunk. Her head pounded and her eyes felt swollen and puffy from the panicked tears she had shed out in the prison yard. Her throat felt raw from her terrified screams when she saw the biters emerge from the moving van that had burst through the outer fence of the prison. She remembered clamping her hands over her mouth to stamp out the sound she couldn't seem to control.

The Governor and his men kept her and Hershel helplessly pinned down in their vulnerable position while ravenous monsters closed in on them, firing at every movement that came from the tall grass they had used for cover. It wasn't until the rest of the group inside the prison heard the assault and had come running to their aide and their retaliation had caused their attackers to retreat.

"You okay?"

The gruff voice tore her from the horrible re-enactment that replayed itself over and over again in her head. She lifted her eyes from the concrete floor and saw Daryl standing at the mouth of her cell, his left hand clutching the strap of his crossbow that seemed to be a permanent fixture on his back.

Gabby's bottom lip trembled and betrayed the weak nod she had answered Daryl with. With a choked sob, she buried her face in her hands.

Daryl shifted the crossbow's strap awkwardly on his shoulder as he stood in the entrance of Gabby's cell. Regretting his decision to ask her, he looked down the corridor towards C Block for any reason to excuse himself without feeling like a total jackass.

Gabby seemed to pick up on his discomfort."You don't have to stand there," she said thickly through her tears.

Relieved, Daryl turned to leave.

"Daryl?"

Her voice was so quiet that he was almost tempted to continue as if he hadn't heard her, but in spite of himself, he paused and turned back. With surprising speed, he watched as Gabby launched herself off her bunk and flung herself at him, wrapping her small arms around his middle and burying her face in his chest. He felt his shoulders stiffen and his hands curl into tightly balled fists that hung down at his sides. He tried not to think about how warm her body felt against his or the way her thick, dark hair tickled his face. What seemed to bother him more was the realization that her touch felt familiar and wonderful and he wasn't sure if it was because of who she was, or the fact that he couldn't remember the last time he felt genuine human affection, aside from the kiss Carol had planted on him after his accident at the Greene farm.

After a few more agonizingly awkward moments, Gabby had either managed to compose herself, or realized that Daryl hadn't returned her embrace (and he didn't really care which); Gabby let go and brushed away the tears from her cheeks.

"Sorry," she muttered, flashing him a small, watery smile.

Daryl nodded stiffly and turned on his heels and disappeared down the D Block corridor.

...

Block C didn't prove to be any better in the affection department, as Daryl found himself skirting around a grateful Beth for helping Michonne and Glenn get Hershel to safety, and dodging an emotional Carol, who seemed hell bent on making amends for her frosty attitude towards him since he had returned from Woodbury with Gabby. Finally, he managed to seek out Merle who sat on the metal staircase and busied himself with adjusting the makeshift bayonet on his metal stump. At least there was no threat of hugs or touching from his brother, who seemed as adverse to it as Daryl was.

"Those assholes fucked up lil' Merle right good," Merle grumbled, as he tore at a piece of duct tape with his teeth.

"Lil' Merle?" Daryl scoffed.

Merle waved his handless arm at him impatiently and refocused his attention taping the hunting knife he'd managed to grab from the prison's weapons haul to the metal stump.

"Ya know," Merle began, as he pulled at the duct tape with a grunt. "What you saw there was the Governor sayin' a friendly hello."

Daryl chewed at his thumbnail absently and watched as Merle did a few test jabs of the freshly attached blade against the concrete wall. Merle swore under his breath as the tape faltered and the blade bent to a nearly 60 degree angle.

"Got anybody in this group who can fix this?" Merle asked dejectedly.

"Axel," Daryl replied. "But he's dead." He watched as Merle deflated at the news. "Dale and Jim taught Glenn how to fix up that old RV...maybe he'd rig somethin' up."

Merle cast a dark look towards the Korean man, who sat at the table with Maggie and made a face. "Think anyone with the black guy can fix it?" He asked hopefully.

...

Rick shook the handful of shells out of the box and counted them quickly. With a sigh, he tipped the eleven shells back into the the box and tossed it on the bunk. The attack on Woodbury and their retaliation had cleaned out the prison's weapons supply. They would need to make a run if they stood any chance of keeping the prison. The prison was equipped with riot gear and a handful of assault weapons, and that would have lasted them fine, if they had never run into The Governor.

He rubbed his eyelids with with thumb and forefinger, willing the dull ache behind them away. He cast another look at the meager weapon supply before heading out to find Daryl.

He didn't have to wander far before he spotted the redneck standing beside his brother on the metal staircase. He flagged him over and waited as Daryl gave him a small nod in response and headed down the stairs towards him.

"I gotta make a run," Rick said quietly once Daryl had reached him. "We damn near cleared out our ammunition, and we will not be caught unprepared again."

Daryl studied him for a moment. "Alright, let me go tell Merle and -"

"No," Rick said sharply. "I need you here to keep an eye on your brother. If anything happens, it's on you."

Daryl felt his blood pressure rise and he fought to keep his composure. "If what he done out there ain't proof of which side he's on, I don't know what is," he hissed, leaning in toward the man. "Saved your ass out there, didn't he?"

The fact that Merle had saved Rick from certain death outside the prison's fence had shocked the shit out of Daryl, though he couldn't be sure if Merle's actions were driven by the desire to make peace, or simply because he enjoyed slaughtering geeks. Either way, Daryl planned to use it as leverage. From what he learned from Hershel about Rick earlier that day was enough to convince him that he was in no state to go anywhere. He watched with a sense of smug satisfaction that he had stumped Rick, as the other man tried to come back with a retort. When nothing came, Daryl closed in.

"Listen, you gotta stay here for Carl and Lil' Asskicker. Take care of 'em," Daryl argued. "Take care of _yerself." _With a pointed glare, he stalked away. He needed to make some more bolts for his crossbow, having lost nearly all the ones he had made when he returned to the prison in the walker-frenzy out in the prison yard. The gunfire had drawn in every damn geek for miles and they didn't have the man power or the ammunition to take them all out. They would have to wait until the brainless bastards forgot why they were there in the first place and wander off. The few stragglers that would be left could be easily taken out along the inner fence-line.

He made his way down through D block towards the guard's office he'd set up as his room. He found himself tiptoeing when he got close to Gabby's cell, trying not to draw attention to the fact that he was close enough for another soggy hug. But damn it all, it did feel nice.

...

Gabby crept around the close knit group in Block C awkwardly. She felt like an intruder among the small huddled groups around her. Hershel sat between Maggie and Beth with a bible, his arms wrapped protectively around his daughters while they rested their heads on his shoulders. Glenn hovered close by, wanting to be near his girlfriend, but allowing her space to be with her father. The old man gave her a weak smile when he saw her and continued reading his verse.

Rick was feeding Judith, while Carol fussed over him and Carl. The boy sat stone-faced at the small table in the center of the block, his hand still tightly gripping the handgun with the makeshift silencer he carried. She found herself staring at the young boy who was much too grown up and hardened from the cruelty of this new world.

"Friendly bunch, ain't they?"

A voice behind her made her jump. She turned quickly and saw Merle Dixon leaning against the wall with a small smirk on his lips.

"They seem to have been through a lot," Gabby replied, carefully. She hadn't spent much time with Merle, aside from their brief meeting in Woodbury when she asked him about Daryl and seeing him the odd time at the weapon stores she guarded when he needed supplies. She never divulged her reason for knowing Daryl, other than she knew him from school, and Merle either bought it, or didn't care enough to ask further.

"Yeah," Merle said, dismissively. He pushed off against the wall and strode over her. She noticed the blade crudely duct taped to the once barren stump, thanks to Martinez dismantling "Little Merle" at the arena just a few nights ago. "Ya like that?" The eldest Dixon asked, holding out his bladed arm. "Ain't quite as good as what that _ese_ set up for me, but it'll have to do."

Gabby flinched slightly as he approached her and from the way his eyes lit up, she knew it hadn't gone unnoticed. His reputation around their hometown had taught her that Merle never shied away from confrontation, and more often than not, he sought it out.

"Do you know where Daryl went?" She asked, keeping her voice even, despite the discomfort she felt at Merle's gaze.

"Nope, hadn't seen him since he talked to Officer Friendly over there," Merle replied, nodding towards Rick. "So are the rumours true?" Merle asked suddenly, changing the subject.

"What rumours?" Gabby asked. She immediately regretted taking the bait but crossed her arms coolly across her chest.

Merle smiled broadly. "That you and my baby brother were bumpin' uglies." He let his eyes wander over her and he gave a low, appreciative whistle. "Who'da thought Darylena had it in him to nail a fine piece of ass like you."

"There seems to be a lot of things you don't know about Daryl," Gabby shot back.

Merle's eyes widened momentarily, before winking slyly at her. "Apparently so."

...

Daryl heard the clanging of feet ascending the metal stairs long before he saw who they belonged to. With a sharp puff of air, he blew away the debris of the bolt he whittled out of his collection of sticks and inspected it closely for any dents or divots that could interfere with its trajectory. He fished a worn piece of sandpaper out of a tattered Ziploc bag he nabbed way back at the Greene farm and began to work at smoothing the bolts surface.

A light knock on the doorway to the guard's office drew his attention away from his task. "What?" He grunted irritably. The vinyl blinds were closed and distorted the figure standing on the other side. With a soft click the door opened and he watched as a head full of mahogany waves breached the door frame.

"Hi," Gabby greeted softly.

Daryl eyed her warily and once he was satisfied that there were no tears present he gave her a small nod. "Hey."

Gabby slid past the door and closed it gently behind her. Daryl gazed at her a moment longer before turning his attention back to the bolt. "You jus' gonna stand there or what?" He demanded.

Gabby shifted awkwardly and took a tentative step closer to the cross-legged man on the mattress. "What are you doing?" She asked timidly.

"Makin' bolts," he replied, blowing away the saw dust. "Gotta replenish my stock before tomorrow."

"Oh," Gabby said. "What's tomorrow?"

"Goin' on a run," Daryl sighed and straightened up. "You just gonna stand there and distract me or are ya gonna help me?"

She felt the small smile play across her lips and she made her way towards him and sat down next to him on the mattress, crossing her legs neatly underneath her. "What do you want me to do?"

With a sideways glance, Daryl shifted away from her and held out the the bolt he was working on and the small square of sandpaper, demonstratively. "Jus' wrap this around the bolt like that and move it up and down, like this, see?"

Gabby bit her lip and stifled a giggle.

"What?" Daryl demanded, confused. "You payin' attention?"

Gabby nodded and laughed even louder. She knew it was juvenile, and she blamed it on the extreme stress she had experienced earlier that day.

"Oh, for Christ's sake," Daryl growled, turning an impressive shade of scarlet. "Nevermind, then."

"I'm sorry, I'm - I can do it," Gabby choked. She took a few deep breaths to regain her composure and held out her hands expectantly. Daryl hesitated and handed her the bolt and sandpaper. Grinning wickedly, Gabby waited until Daryl busied himself with peeling the bark off another stick.

"Should I do it fast or slow?" She joked, her tone suggestive.

"Give it here," Daryl snapped, snatching at the objects in Gabby's hands. She shrieked and held them as far away from him as possible. He glared at her and the smallest hint of a smile curled the corners of his mouth upwards, betraying his stern expression.


	16. Chapter 14: Ho Hey Part One

_A/N: DAMMIT Pit Bull and Parolees has me crying all over my lap top while I'm trying to write. In other news...I think I might have hit my groove again, I found the last few chapters rather forced and whatnot._

_And Dear readers, if something is like "WTF is this girl smoking?" in any part of my writing, like something isn't quite coherent or comes out of left field, it's likely because I am deliriously exhausted from doing the Beachbody Insanity workouts. Good lord. That workout is all kinds of ridiculous, my knees are hating me right now._

_Also the name of this chapter makes no sense, but it is the title of the song that has inspired my writing for this chapter._

_EDITED! I might need a Beta if I continue making mistakes!_

Chapter 14: Ho Hey Part One

_I've been trying to do it right,_

_I've been living a lonely life._

_I've been sleeping here instead,_

_I've been sleeping in my bed._

_So show me family,_

_All the blood that I will bleed._

_I don't know where I belong,_

_I don't know where I went wrong,_

_But I can write a song..._

_I belong with you, you belong with me_

_You're my sweetheart..._

_- Ho Hey, The Lumineers_

Daryl shouldered his crossbow and hoisted the pack filled with water and canned food into the back of the small Hyundai SUV. He could feel his brother's eyes boring into the back of his head and he knew it would be awhile until Merle stopped being pissed about being left behind. Hell, he didn't like the idea himself. Leaving Merle behind at the mercy of the group, or rather, the other way around was a risky move. After discussing it with Rick, they decided that two men leaving the prison was more than they could spare. Rick had assured him that he could handle Merle, should he get a little...well, how Merle gets.

It was also pretty much forced on him that he wasn't going alone, which left Daryl with few options on who to take with him. He didn't want to take Carol because she and Beth primarily cared for Lil Asskicker. And Carol had gone and pissed him off so much he wasn't ready to make nice quite yet. Maggie would have been a shoe-in, but she hadn't been the same since Woodbury. He tried to get Merle to tell him just what the hell happened to her there, but his brother merely shrugged and said that The Governor dealt with her, not him.

He quickly ruled out Michonne, who wasn't too pleased at him for stopping her from making Merle a human shish-kebab. Daryl had visions of the ninja woman slicing and dicing him to little bitty pieces and feeding them to the walkers, like an old lady on a park bench surrounded by ducks. He decided that with the walkers and Woodbury threat, he didn't want to have to worry about Michonne too. So that left Daryl with one choice, and he found himself wondering if he should take his chances with Michonne. He sighed as he watched Gabby make her way towards the passenger side of the vehicle, ignoring the weird fluttering he felt in his chest when she beamed at him before opening the door and sliding in.

He wasn't too sure what purpose Gabby served to him joining him on this run, but if it shut Rick up, he figured he could deal with it, if it weren't for this annoying jittery feeling he just couldn't seem to shake.

"You don't find anything by tomorrow, come on back, hear me?" Rick said, handing Daryl the map they had worked out together. Merle was able to offer some input about what was already looted by the Woodbury army. As pissed as he was that he wasn't invited along, he still knew that restocking their weapons supply was his number one chance of survival and there were few things Merle loved more than Merle.

Daryl nodded at Rick and pulled open the driver's side door, he tried not to look at the group gathered around watching him leave. He wasn't any good at the sentimental goodbyes and from their sullen expressions. He had half a mind to cuss them out for doubting that he'd make it back. He turned the key in the ignition and waited while Rick and Michonne opened the gates. Tyreese and Glenn quickly dispatched the walkers who excitedly scuttled to the barrier that kept them from their lunch.

He watched in the rear view to make sure they would able to secure the last remaining fence that kept the prison safe before increasing his speed, listening to the long gravel road crunching underneath the SUV's tires. He glanced beside him and watched as Gabby fiddled with the pistol she had brought back from Woodbury, loading and unloading the clip, he noticed the barrel pointed in his direction. "Do you mind?" He growled sharply.

Gabby jumped and dropped the clip onto her lap. "What?"

"I already been shot once by a broad who couldn't handle a gun, I ain't lookin' for a repeat," he snarled.

Gabby noticed the position of the gun and blushed. "I'm sorry," she breathed. She redirected the pistol so that it pointed towards the floor of the SUV and quickly reloaded the clip and tucked the gun away into the waistband of the cargo pants Beth had graciously lent her after the attack in the prison yard had soaked her other loaned items through with walker gore. She hoped in the back of her mind that they would be able to grab some clothes and other items for herself and the group while they were gone, but the priority was weapons and baby formula. "The safety was on."

"Ain't no one teach you about guns?" Daryl asked.

"Travis showed me how to use one at the beginning of all this, but it's been awhile," Gabby admitted sheepishly. "I'm really sorry."

Daryl softened slightly and nodded. That dang woman looked so pretty when her cheeks went all red like they were. He shook the thought out of his head and handed her the map. "First thing I'mma do when we stop is teach you how to probably handle that thing, but in the meantime, I reckon you can read a map."

...

Beth watched as Merle Dixon tore through the mattress he had pulled from the top bunk of the unused cell in the far end of Block C, foam flying as he pulled handfull after handful of the mattress' stuffing out. With a frustrated growl, he stood up and kicked the mattress angrily. He reached for the bottom mattress and paused when he noticed the small blond girl staring at him curiously.

"Didn't yer daddy warn you 'bout me yet?" He drawled, jamming his knife-hand into the mattress.

"My daddy said you're as bad as everyone says you are," Beth replied. "But he also said you're Daryl's brother and your loyalty to him shouldn't be discounted."

Merle snorted and pulled the rip open in the mattress further and began rooting around in the opening. "Listen, sweetheart, unless you know where I can find some dope, I ain't interested," he grunted, now elbow deep in mattress.

"Why did you take Maggie and Glenn?" Beth asked.

Merle sighed. "Because I'm the big bad wolf," he retorted. "Now, run along, little girl."

...

Daryl slowed the vehicle as they drove down the desolate little town's downtown area. It was eerily quiet, and it almost seemed like it was sheltered from the horrible thing the world had become, but the abandoned cars and broken windows told him otherwise. Where were the flesh-hungry monsters? They had to be lurking somewhere and Daryl was tempted to lay on the horn to draw them out.

"Spooky, isn't it?" Gabby murmured softly from beside him.

"Keep your eye out for anything useful," Daryl said, ignoring her observation. The truth was, it _was_ spooky. While he was happy the place wasn't teeming with geeks, to not see at least one or two was unsettling. "And keep your eye out for anything else, too."

Gabby nodded and instinctually ran her finger over the handle over the hunting knife that was clipped to the belt loop of her pants. She watched as abandoned boutiques and shops passed by and while it would be nice to gather some fresh clothes for everyone, it wasn't high on their priority list, and she made a mental note to ask Daryl to stop by one on the way back, to see if anything useful had been left behind.

Daryl made a frustrated noise and slammed his hand on the steering wheel in frustration as the town's downtown became a vision in the rear view mirror, with nothing worth stopping for.

"I just can't believe there ain't a gun store, or a police station anywhere? This fuckin' Pleasantville or somethin'?" Daryl lamented, as he sped up.

"This would be so much easier if Google still existed," Gabby muttered, squinting at the map.

"What's a Google?" Daryl asked.

Gabby lowered the map and stared at him in disbelief. "The world's largest search engine...?" She offered, her mouth falling open when she was met with a blank stare. "The internet? Please tell me you heard of the internet?"

"I hearda the internet," Daryl growled, his cheeks turning pink in embarrassment. "Jus' ain't never used it."

Gabby smiled softly at him and gazed out the window as they passed a small cluster of what would have been neat, picturesque houses, complete with large wood porches and white picket fences. Maybe they were in Pleasantville afterall.

"Stop!" She cried suddenly, causing Daryl to slam on the brakes. She lurched violently in her seat and felt the thick nylon strap of the seat belt dig into her shoulder and was suddenly grateful that old habits die hard.

"Jesus! The fuck is yer problem?" Daryl spat, looking absolutely murderous.

"I - thought perhaps, that house would be a good place to look for formula?" Gabby said apologetically.

Daryl's eyes followed the direction of her pointed finger and saw the plastic baby swing hanging from the beam of a neatly built treehouse perched in the branches of a large oak tree in the front of the house and sighed. This was not how he planned this trip unfolding, but if they could at least take care of Judith, it was better than nothing. He put the vehicle in reverse and backed the SUV up so he could turn into the the white-gravel driveway.

Gabby hopped out of the SUV and stretched luxuriously, trying to work out the cramping in her legs from sitting for the past few hours. She couldn't help but notice the way her handsome travelling companion watched her out of the corner of his eye as he pulled his crossbow from the back seat of the car. She felt a blush warming her cheeks and she quickly adjusted her clothing to cover the sliver of exposed midriff before starting for the house.

The modest sized house boasted the charming Georgian architecture with it's multi-paned windows, framed with green-painted wooden shutters. The wide front porch was well-worn and the patches of exposed wood through the white paint had faded grey from exposure to the sun.

"Hold up there, Sacagawea," Daryl called, causing Gabby to freeze with her hand on the handle of the screen door. She turned and watched as Daryl jogged up the wooden steps, scowling at her in disapproval. "How about letting the armed person go first, huh?"

"Hey, I have a gun!" Gabby protested.

"Fine. Let the armed person who actually knows how to _use_ a weapon go first," Daryl corrected, as he readied his crossbow.

Gabby pursed her lips and studied the redneck's face. Through his patchy beard, she saw the slight upward curve of his lips that indicated the smallest of grins as he pulled open the creaking screen door. "Why, Daryl Dixon!" She exclaimed, turning on the Southern accent she had managed to train out of her voice during the early years of her dancing career in New York. "Did you just make a joke?"

"Did you just turn back into a Southerner?" Daryl shot back as he tried to turn the knob of the wooden storm door. "Locked."

"We can try the windows?" Gabby suggested, ignoring his first comment. Daryl nodded.

"I'll cover you," he said as he stood back as Gabby used her knife to slit open the screen that blocked access to the sliding window behind it. With some effort she managed to slide the swollen wooden window frame up about a foot before it would no longer budge.

"Damn it," she said, her voice strained as she tried to wedge her shoulder under the window pane and use her strong ballet dancer legs to push upwards. A sudden snarl sounded from the other side of the glass and cold, dead hands grasped Gabby's forearm, caused her to yelp in fear. A bolt whistled by Gabby's ear, brushing her hair and shattering the glass as it went and hit it's mark right between the eyes of her attacker.

Gabby felt the grip on her arm loosen and she pulled away, falling backward onto the wooden porch. "Ya bit?" Daryl asked, hurrying over to her. His heart sank when he saw her cradling her bleeding arm.


	17. Chapter 15: Red at Night

_**A/N:**__ Okay guys, I had this stupid, over-long ridiculous Author's Note written out that involved the Reedus and Robert Downey Jr. (If you must know, PM me...and it's not a pervy as you may think.) BUT...this chapter is neither the time or the place for such blather. It's a heavy one folks. Don't hate me. I'm actually really nervous at how this will be received._

_Which brings me to this. A HUGE THANK YOU to my main Beta SaidWhatIMeant (who is also currently writing a TWD fanfic...and it's really good!) for editting my errors and helping me sort of some choppy and unclear parts! She has really helped me get past my initial writer's block and I can already notice a huge difference in the quality of my writing (and hopefully you will too). __  
_

_Also, thank you to ChooseJoy. I had her read a bit of this chapter to ease my apprehension about it. If you don't know who she is, promptly remove yourself from under the rock you reside under. :)_

_And thank you to my lovely readers! I love conversing with you guys via PM and talk about weird things that amuse me!_

**Chapter 15: Red at Night**

_"It was a blood red sky on the morning tide_

_There was a cold wind blowin' when I left that night_

_And the warning bells rang, all right, all right_

_Shoulda stayed home with you that night_

_Ain't nobody played the fool like I_

_Ain't nobody played the fool like I_

_Things got bad and things got worse_

_Half like a blessing, half like a curse_

_Seems a blessing's so hard to see sometimes_

_Got a little clearer 'bout dusk last night."_

_-Red at Night, The Gaslight Anthem_

Daryl paced the porch like a man possessed, his hands grabbing fistfuls of brown hair as he clutched at his head frantically. "What do you mean you don't know?" He demanded, rounding on the wounded woman suddenly. "Either you are or you ain't. Which is it?"

"I'm not sure! I mean, I don't think so, but it happened so fast," Gabby explained shrilly, holding the red rag Daryl had produced from his back pocket against her forearm tightly to try and stop the bleeding. Daryl scowled and grabbed her arm roughly, causing her to yelp in pain.

"Sorry," he muttered, his blue eyes averting to her arm. With a much more gentle touch, he carefully pulled the red fabric away, hoping the bleeding had slowed enough to better inspect the nature of the gash. He tried to ignore the lump of dread that formed in his chest, like a fist tightly clenched around his pounding heart. He didn't like how frantic he was, how much he cared if she was bitten. Who the fuck was she to him anyway? Just a girl from his past who had moved on from him. _Liar._ He pushed that thought away and refocused on the task at hand. His eyes met hers briefly before hesitantly glancing down at her wounded forearm.

He hadn't realized he was holding his breath until he saw the deep, neat looking gash in her lightly tanned flesh and exhaled in relief. There were no obvious chunks missing, no telltale crescents embedded into her arm. "Ain't bit," he mumbled. He felt a wave of relief wash over him as he allowed his eyes to meet Gabby's again.

"Oh, thank God," Gabby breathed, unable to blink back the tears of relief fast enough. Warm, fat droplets trickled down her cheeks and onto Daryl's hands as he worked at tying the scrap of cloth around her injured arm.

"Hey, none of that," he said as he finished dressing the wound. Gabby sniffled and let out a shaky laugh as she nodded, her watery grey eyes meeting his. She flinched slightly as she saw Daryl's right hand move towards her face. A rough, calloused thumb brushed across the top of her cheekbone, wiping away the remaining tears that had escaped. Her grey eyes closed, reveling in the comforting touch. All too quickly, he pulled his hand away and her eyes flew open, watching as Daryl quickly retreated back into himself, casting his eyes towards the ground as he adjusted the crossbow's strap slung over his shoulder.

"We should see if they got any proper bandages for your arm... Maybe they got some antibiotics for ya, too," he muttered, stepping around her towards the window. He gripped the wooden frame, mindful of the broken shards of glass, and hoisted it open with a grunt. He leaned over the sill and, once ensuring it was all clear, climbed inside.

Gabby followed closely behind Daryl, her eyes firmly planted on the worn and weathered angel wings on the back of his leather vest. So far, the main floor had provided nothing except the dispatched walker that had nearly killed her. She noticed that the corpse was once a woman. Ironically, a blackened, gaping hole marred the grey, decaying flesh on the woman's forearm, eerily close to where Gabby's cut was on her own arm.

"We'll sweep the upstairs next and see if we can find you those bandages," Daryl explained, his voice low. He readied his crossbow and methodically inched his way up the stairs. Gabby held her pistol so the barrel was pointed towards the floor, trying to still her shaking hands as she followed to the second floor.

All but one of the rooms remained open. They went through a small room serving as an office, as well as a bathroom and master bedroom, seeing no signs of any potential threat. They stopped at the closed door and Gabby saw Daryl's face soften from steely determination to a look of apprehension. He caught Gabby's quizzical look and nodded towards a picture mounted on the hall wall behind her. Gabby had been on such a high alert that she missed what appeared to be a portrait of the family that resided there. A young, beaming couple smiled back at her from within the frame. Cradled in the pretty blonde woman's arms was a cherub-like infant dressed in a ruffled pink dress. It didn't take long for Gabby to recognize that the woman in the picture laid dead in the living room, with one of Daryl's makeshift bolts embedded in her skull.

Gabby felt her stomach turn as she dragged her eyes away from the photograph and turned to face Daryl. He motioned for her to wait in the hallway and grabbed the doorknob. With a bracing breath, he quickly opened the door and slipped through the threshold, closing the door behind him.

Gabby's heart pounded with every agonizingly slow moment that dragged by. She jumped when she heard the loud pounding sound come from within the bedroom and a string of strangled expletives followed. Heart pounding, Gabby burst into the room, gun drawn.

She lowered her arm when she saw Daryl hunched over a white baby's crib, his strong back heaving with every ragged breath. She quickly discovered the source of the noise was from Daryl's fists on the baby pink walls. Broken pieces of drywall and dust littered the floor beside the crib and as she drew nearer to him, she saw the traces of dust and blood across his knuckles.

"I couldn't leave her like that," Daryl croaked, his voice thick. "I had to..." Gabby's free hand flew up to her mouth in realization and felt the sting of fresh tears behind her eyelids. "Don't look," Daryl warned her. He reached down and gingerly placed a blanket over the tiny body. He wiped at his nose with the back of his hand and turned away to look out the window.

Gabby watched Daryl's shoulders shake as he struggled to compose himself and her heart ached. She reached out tentatively for Daryl's arm, jumping back as the man pulled away from her. "Don't," he snapped.

Gabby hesitantly reached out for him again, the urge to provide him with some comfort outweighing her apprehension. She felt him flinch at her touch, but he didn't pull away. Encouraged, she gently grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bedroom door. Once they were back in the hall, Gabby pulled the door closed behind her and swallowed back the sob that was building in her throat as she tried to come to grips with the gruesome scenario. Her heart ached for the woman downstairs, for the infant in the room, and for Daryl, whose act of mercy would be something she knew would haunt him for a long time to come She led Daryl towards the main bathroom. "Sit," she ordered, gesturing towards the fabric covered toilet seat.

Daryl lowered himself down and watched through red-rimmed eyes as Gabby began searching the medicine cabinets and drawers until she produced a white plastic case. She sat down on the edge of the tub beside him and popped open the plastic clasps. "What're you doin'?" Daryl asked.

"I'm taking care of that hand of yours," Gabby replied as she fished through the first aid kit's contents. She pulled out a pack of gauze, antiseptic wipes, and a small tube of ointment, alongside some butterfly tape that she set aside for herself. Daryl scowled at her as she reached for his bloodied hand. She gave him a pointed glare and he relented.

She gently grabbed Daryl's hand and pulled it towards her until it rested on her lap. "The hell, Gabby?" Daryl yelped, jerking his hand away like he had touched a hot burner.

"Oh, stop," Gabby scolded, catching his wrist again, this time holding his hand to the top of her thighs. She tore at the packet of the antiseptic towelettes with her teeth and began to work at cleaning Daryl's bloodied knuckles. He hissed as she swiped the cleansing towel across his broken skin. Gabby leaned down and blew lightly on the back of his hand, causing his cheeks to flush in embarrassment.

If Gabby noticed his blush, she didn't acknowledge it, and he was grateful for it. After she was satisfied his hand was clean, she unscrewed the cap of the ointment and dabbed some on his knuckles. "You should be takin' care of yerself first," Daryl said, watching as she gently wrapped his hand with gauze.

"Even tough guys like you need taking care of sometimes," Gabby said, as she secured the gauze with a piece of medical tape. Once she was finished, she planted a quick kiss over his bandaged hand. "All better."

Daryl's skin tingled under the bandage as the warmth of her lips left his hand. He didn't want to admit to himself how good it felt. "You have any kids?" He asked suddenly, flexing his fingers.

Gabby smiled humourlessly as she fumbled one-handed with the fabric tied around her forearm. She was taken aback slightly as Daryl took over for her and began working on her wound. "No, unfortunately kids and a ballet career don't mix," she replied, watching as Daryl hesitantly started dabbing at her cut with the antiseptic with a gentle, feather-like touch. Having known Daryl as long as she had, Gabby wasn't surprised by the sweetness he was capable of showing, but it was a gesture she wasn't sure she'd see again.

"Besides," she continued. "Even when I got too old for dance, it was never something I was interested in exploring."

"Why not?" Daryl asked, leaning over her and grabbing the butterfly tape. "Seems like you'd be good at it, is all."

Gabby snorted derisively, and winced as Daryl tried to close the deep cut with the tape. "Yeah, well...it wasn't exactly the right environment for a baby," she replied. "You know how it goes, two people getting too wrapped up in their careers to pay attention to each other. I started finding his wedding band at the bathroom sink after he'd leave for the day. Eventually I stopped waiting up for him. I just didn't care anymore."

Daryl considered that for a moment as he picked at the end of the medical tape, trying to separate it from the roll. "What a douche," Daryl mused and taped a piece of gauze over her butterflied wound, before wrapping a bandage around her arm to further protect it. He watched her reaction out of the corner of his eye while he worked, and was pleased to see that she was smiling.

"What, no kiss?" Gabby joked, as she looked over his work. Daryl's eyes flew up to meet hers in shock. "I was kidding." She assured him, closing the first aid kit.

Daryl rose to his feet and collected his crossbow that he had propped up against the vanity. "We should get goin'. Storm's comin."

* * *

Before Daryl and Gabby could finish scavenging the house for supplies, the sky had turned a murky grey and the black clouds opened up with deafening crashes of thunder, followed by the electric flash of lightning. The sound of rushing water hitting the windows, maybe?came soon after and they could no longer see anything outside the windows.

"Shit," Daryl swore as he leaned over the kitchen sink, craning his neck to try and get a glimpse of the sky. "This ain't letting up anytime soon."

Gabby wrapped her arms around herself and shivered. This house was a graveyard. She tore her gaze away from the living room, where the walker that had nearly bitten her laid. She had taken an afghan off of the plush grey couch and covered the woman, knowing that if it were her, she'd want to be awarded the same dignity.

They had managed to scrounge up quite a few useful items from the house, including a couple of large cans of baby formula for Judith, some canned pasta, canned salmon, canned vegetables, and a large bag of rice. Daryl had stomped up from the cellar, dusting off a couple bottles of wine. Gabby had to push down the feelings of guilt she felt as she scavenged through the dead woman's cupboards, reminding herself that they needed the stuff more than she did.

After they piled everything they collected on the breakfast bar in the kitchen, Daryl rummaged through the kitchen drawers until he pulled out a corkscrew, can opener and a pair of forks.

"Ravioli or spaghetti with meatballs?" Daryl asked, holding up the 2 cans demonstratively.

"Ravioli," Gabby replied.

"Too bad, you get the spaghetti," Daryl said, as he turned the key on the can opener. Gabby quirked an eyebrow at him as he handed her the can and a fork and began to work on his own.

Daryl hopped up onto the kitchen counter, his heels banging against the lower cupboards as he began to shovel the pasta pouches into his mouth. He watched as Gabby picked at her pasta disdainfully and felt a pang of guilt.

"Shit, if I'da known ya didn't like the spaghetti," he mumbled through a bite of ravioli. "I still got half mine, you want it?"

Gabby let out a small laugh and shook her head. "Just not very hungry, I suppose."

Daryl nodded and stabbed another piece of ravioli and popped it into his mouth. Gabby held out her can of pasta to him, and he shook his head. "You need to eat," he chastised, pushing it back towards her.

He hopped off the counter and grabbed one of the bottles of wine he placed on the breakfast bar and worked at twisting the corkscrew into the top of it. With a satisfying POP, the wine bottle opened and Daryl took a long swig. He passed the bottle to Gabby, and she took it gratefully.

The two passed the bottle back a forth in a comfortable silence, and it wasn't long before Daryl was working on opening the second bottle of wine. Gabby's limbs felt heavy and tingly and she shook her head at Daryl's offering of the bottle.

"Suit yerself," he shrugged, raising the bottle to his lips again. He never did care much for wine, being more partial to whiskey and beer, but he needed the giddy drunk effect he felt when he drank wine. Whiskey turned him into an asshole, and after the day he had, he could use a little distraction from the horror he saw. He cast a sideways glance at Gabby before hopping off the counter and making his way for the staircase. "I gotta piss," he stated bluntly.

After a short time passed, Gabby ascended the staircase and found Daryl sitting at the foot of the queen-sized mattress in the master bedroom. She paused at the doorway when she saw the man slumped forward with his head in his hand and a crumpled piece of paper in the other. The bottle of wine he had sat forgotten on the dresser in front of him.

"Daryl?" Gabby questioned softly, uncertain of her next move.

"Jolie," he replied.

"I'm sorry, I don't understand," Gabby said. She leaned against the door frame and hugged her waist.

"The baby's name was Jolie," Daryl explained hollowly. He held out the crumpled paper. "Found this in the kitchen."

Gabby approached him slowly and gently took the paper and smoothed it out. A hand flew up to her mouth as she read the hastily scrawled message across the parchment.

_David,_

_I am infected._

_Jolie is safe in her room._

_I waited as long as I could, but I had to leave. I have to keep her safe._

_Get to Atlanta. Tell Jolie mommy loves her very much._

_I love you,_

_Ashley_

"Oh my God," Gabby breathed, brushing away fresh tears. "She didn't make it out and he never made it back." She fell silent as she digested the horrifying details of this discovery.

Daryl leaned forward and grabbed the wine bottle from the dresser in front of him and took a long drink. "Carol had a daughter," he said, suddenly. "Lost her on the highway when a herd came through. We had to hide under cars. I guess she thought it was clear and Sophia crawled out and was chased into the woods by a straggler."

Gabby inched her way closer to Daryl and leaned against the dresser, listening quietly as she listened to the rare, vulnerable moment unfurl. The Daryl she knew had always been so stoic, making sure he hid the horror he experienced growing up from her. She knew those scars across his torso told a tragic story of abuse from his childhood, though she never pressed him about it.

"We went after her right away, but with so many people tramping through the woods, the trail got mucked up," Daryl continued, pausing only to take another drink of wine. "We ended up moving to Hershel's farm and I went out there every single day for weeks looking for that little girl. Even after everyone else had given up hope, I still went. I just _had _to find her, you know? It wasn't even for Carol anymore. I had to find her for me.

"Ended up falling down a cliff and one of my own bolts went straight through my side, but I managed to make it back. Andrea wound up shooting me in the head, and I was damn lucky she was a bad shot back then," Daryl explained, laughing humourlessly.

"Jesus," Gabby murmured.

"After living on the farm awhile, we found out that Hershel was keeping walkers in the barn," Daryl continued, his voice becoming more strained. "She was in there. Sophia was there the whole time." Daryl stopped and took a few gasping breaths before hastily wiping his eyes with the back of his hand.

Before the fear of being pushed away overcame her, Gabby rushed forward, compelled to offer the broken man some comfort. Reaching out, she gently pulled his shoulders towards her, feeling the man's weak resistance before he relented and leaned forward, burrowing his face in the soft skin that stretched across her collarbone. He felt her fingers work their way through his overgrown brown locks and let out a few gasping breaths as he struggled to pull himself together.

Gabby felt his hot breath against her neck, and she blinked away the tears she hadn't even realized had formed during Daryl's heartbreaking revelation. Emboldened by the wine and the need for closeness, Gabby pulled away just enough to ghost a light kiss over the mole that took up residence beside his mouth.

Daryl jerked away as if burned and stared at her in shock, blue eyes searching grey. Daryl felt lost in her comforting touch. It felt so familiar, yet so exhilarating and he lurched forward, his rough hands seizing her face as his lips crashed against hers. Gabby's eyes widened and she let out a little squeak of shock. Instead of being spooked by her reaction, Daryl seemed emboldened by her surprise, allowing his fingers to weave themselves into the dark, soft tangles of her hair as his mouth moved against hers.

After catching her bearings, Gabby relaxed and allowed her mouth to yield to his as Daryl deepened the kiss. She offered no resistance as she herself being pulled down to the mattress beside him. Her body fell back onto the pillow top mattress as Daryl shifted over her, balancing his weight on his elbows as he kissed her hungrily, allowing the horrors of the day to slowly melt away.

He felt her small hand run up his chest to his shoulders and he pulled away panting as he stared down at her confused face.

"Sorry," he breathed. And with that, he pushed himself up off the mattress, leaving Gabby breathless in his wake.


	18. Chapter 16: Once Upon a Time

_A/N: Thank you all for the reviews on the last chapter! I'm glad you forgave me for Daryl's RUDE treatment of Gabby. Romantic scenes make me nervous to write, as apparently, despite me being nearly 30, boys still have cooties and the words penis and vagina makes me giggle like a 13 year old boy in sex ed. BUT I digress, that scene was necessary not only for my story arc, but also so I can live out my Norman Reedus/Daryl Dixon fantasies vicariously through my OC, lol._

_And now a fluffy, meaningless chapter that does nothing to advance the story... YAAAAAAAY!_

_My BAMF Beta is SaidWhatIMeant...she's awesome. So is her story._

_Thanks again Choosejoy for letting me talk out this chapter when I was stuck!_

**Chapter 16: Once Upon a Time**

_"Once upon a time, when I was in high school,_

_I was in love with you, lady and you treated me so cool._

_I was drivin' a Chevy '72, had four on the floor, girl,_

_one hundred 20 it would do._

_I remember Marvin Gaye, singin'_

_What's goin' on."_

_- Once Upon a Time - Robert Bradley's Black Water Surprise_

* * *

**_19 Years Ago_**

The gravel crunched under the old Chevy's tires as Daryl turned down the tree-lined path that led to the secluded piece of lake front. It was a quiet little nook where he liked to clean up after gutting and skinning his kills without worrying about being disturbed by the people who frequented the main beach. That day's hunt was a successful one. Hell, he reckoned even Merle would be impressed with the massive 16 point buck that laid in the truck bed. It was damn near too big to get in the truck, and Daryl was glad he had the foresight to put the wooden planks in the truck bed that he had used as a plane to heave the massive carcass into the old Chevy.

Daryl frowned when he saw the small red Mazda Precidia parked under the large willow tree beside the lake front. He liked to think of this piece of lake as his spot. Well, his and Merle's, seeing as his older brother was the one to show him it. He pulled up beside the small car and hopped out of the truck. Tell tale splashing and squealing coming from the lake had him rolling his eyes as he pulled down the creaky tailgate and hopped up on the truck bed to set up the wooden planks.

He heard the laughing get closer as he worked, heaving the massive animal down the plane so he could clean it without getting his truck covered in deer guts.

"Oh ew!" A shriek rang out.

Daryl looked towards the source, squinting against the midday sun and saw two girls around his age gaping at him as he wrestled with the dead animal. With a final grunt, he dropped the front half of the deer to the gravel. He didn't want to drag it too far and ruin the hide. Old Eddie Jenkins paid Daryl a pretty penny for every decent animal skin he brought in. Daryl wondered if Jenkins would make him one of his deer leather chairs he was famous for in exchange for this piece of hide.

"Jesus, how barbaric," Daryl heard one of the girls sneer. He glanced at them again and saw a tall, skinny blonde girl staring at him with her lip curled in disgust. The other one was a petite brunette with striking grey eyes. If he wasn't so annoyed, he'd acknowledge how pretty she was. He did notice how her jean cutoffs showed off perhaps the most amazing pair of legs he'd ever seen. She was one of those girls who'd 'turn a man's head right off his shoulders,' as Merle would say. Or maybe it was 'make a man follow his dick right off a cliff,' Daryl couldn't remember.

He straightened up and wiped his brow with the back of his blood covered hand, leaving a red smear across his forehead, which caused the blonde to squeal in disgust. "Problem?" He challenged. He wasn't even sure why he was bothering taking the bait. He'd seen those girls around school (when he could be arsed to go), and to say they didn't exactly hang with the same crowd was the understatement of the year. They belonged to the part of town with white picket fences, porch swings and large wooden gazebos in the backyards. Daryl belonged to the part of town where the only things in the backyards were rebuilt ATVs and broken down cars, whose radiators served as illegal moonshine stills. Daryl had learned the previous year to stay away from the stuff after drinking a shot of a bad batch Merle had attempted to make with Ronnie Lester that had him puking his guts out for days.

"Don't Cassie," Daryl heard the brunette hiss at her friend.

"Don't you have a trailer or something to haul that thing to?" Cassie demanded haughtily. She placed a hand on her hip and looked down her slightly beakish nose at the dead deer.

Daryl pulled the scrap of cloth he kept in his back pocket and wiped off his hands. He glanced back up at the girls and spit through his front teeth towards the blonde, causing her to jump back in disgust. A small smirk worked its way across his lips as he pulled the large hunting knife from its sheath on his belt. He knelt down at the belly of the deer and forcefully drove the knife into the animal's abdomen with a flourish and pulled the blade across its belly. Guts and entrails spilled out. He glanced up at the girls and smirked in satisfaction to see that they had both turned an impressive shade of green.

"Whatsa matter?" He drawled with an exaggerated sweetness. "Ain't you girls have a Bambi burger before?"

He noticed that the pretty brunette suppressed a giggle at his question, and felt a small swell of pride in his chest that he quickly pushed down. He watched as the girls climbed into the small sports car, but not before catching one last scathing look from the blonde and, to his surprise, a lingering smile from the brunette.

* * *

Daryl grabbed a six-pack of Bud from the cooler and walked through the narrow aisles towards the cash register. He set the cans down with a clunk and reached in his back pocket for his tattered leather wallet. He nodded at the cashier, Smitty, who Merle had once threatened to string up on a flag pole by his intestines for denying Daryl purchase of the beer he sent him in for.

"Pack of Marlboro Kings," Daryl grunted, slapping a worn 20 dollar bill on the counter he had earned from working the odd shift as a labourer in the small metalworking shop a few blocks away from his house. He asked the owner, Mike, for more shifts but wound up receiving a lecture on the importance of school. The old man at the counter nodded passively and tossed the pack towards him and quickly began counting his change.

Daryl took no notice of the ding of the chime as another patron entered the small convenience store, He collected his change and grabbed the six-pack and the cigarettes. He tapped the package against the counter a few times to pack the loose tobacco back into the cigarettes before tearing into the foil with his teeth as he made his way to the door.

"Hey!"

Daryl continued through the door, hearing the ding of the chime sound as it opened. He felt a small hand grab the back of his bicep and he jerked away, whipping around to face the source in alarm.

To his surprise, he saw the pretty brunette he saw at the lake a few days ago. "What?" He said gruffly, fishing in his pockets for his lighter. He flicked the flint of the lighter a few times until a small, feeble flame erupted and he quickly lit the cigarette perched between his lips. He took a long drag from the smoke and exhaled, directing the smoke away from the girl with his lips as he stared at her expectantly.

She stared back at him with big, gray eyes and blushed slightly at his gaze. "Oh! Um...I just wanted to say hi," she stammered lamely. "You look a lot different without deer blood on your face..."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow at her and couldn't help but notice how adorable she looked as she fumbled for words in front of him. "That it?" He asked, sounding bored.

"Yeah," the girl replied. Daryl turned towards his truck. "No! I mean, wait, please?"

"What?" Daryl asked again, turning to see the girl had followed him to his truck.

"You're Daryl Dixon, right?" She asked. He gave her a curt nod as he leaned against the tailgate, waiting for her to continue. "I want to apologize for my friend the other day, she can be a real -"

"Cunt?" Daryl finished for her. He watched as she flinched slightly at the vulgar language. He took a final hull off his smoke before flicking the spent cigarette to the ground, the red ember exploding on contact. He watched as the girl shifted uncomfortably in front of him and he felt compelled to continue speaking. "Listen..."

"Gabby," the girl offered.

He nodded. "You ain't gotta apologize for yer friend," he said as he pulled a can of Bud from the six-pack. He held it out to her in offering, but she shook her head, glancing around her quickly. He fought back the smirk that was tugging at the corners of his lips as he watched the girl - Gabby - stare at the can like it were a loaded gun. He shrugged and cracked the tab of the can and took a large gulp of the beer.

"Aren't you afraid of getting in trouble?" Gabby asked, her voice barely above a whisper, casting a sideways glance towards the deserted main road.

Daryl suppressed a belch. "Nope," he replied, raising the can to his lips again. "Ain't you afraid of being seen with no good, backwoods trash?" He eyed her carefully after the baited question. Her eyes widened in shock and she looked around them with an exaggerated panic.

"Oh God, where?" She gasped. He gaped at her, confused and she beamed at him. "For the record, Dixon, I don't think you're no good, backwoods trash."

Daryl shifted uncomfortably under Gabby's gaze and took another swig of beer, avoiding eye contact. He had no idea why someone like her was taking a sudden interest in someone like him. He had seen her around school, and might even share a class with her, but damned if he could remember which one. His attendance was so bad, he had classes spanning from grade nine to eleven, a trend that was sure to continue into his senior year. His father was too drunk to care, and when he wasn't, he was too busy beating on him to notice the letters sent from the school secretary on behalf of the vice principal. He usually forged his father's signature, or Merle would sign them whenever he was around. Sometimes, Daryl would think of his momma with a twinge of regret. She held such high hopes for him, encouraging him to make something of himself to get out of this podunk town. He was grateful that she wasn't around to see the downward spiral that Merle had got caught in. He had enlisted in the armed forces and was away in basic training on the night of the fire that consumed their home, and their momma. Merle was given a leave of absence for the funeral, and he damn near shook Daryl to death, asking why he wasn't there to make sure momma didn't fall asleep. He was dishonorably discharged shortly after that when he was introduced to methamphetamine and decided to go hunting with his army issued assault rifle on base. Dumb bastard nearly got himself killed.

"You gonna be here a minute?" Gabby asked. Daryl snapped out of his thoughts and nodded, without really hearing the question. "Okay, I'll be right back." Gabby smiled at him, and his heart skipped a beat. He scowled at himself and the girl's smile faltered. He took another drink of beer and pretended to be interested in the imprinted "CHEVROLET" lettering on the tailgate of his truck as the girl made her way towards Smitty's convenience store.

Daryl cracked another beer and pulled down the tailgate, hopping onto the truck bed with his legs dangling over the edge. He heard the faint chime of the door and saw Gabby come trotting out towards him. As she got closer, he noticed two Drumstick ice cream cones in her hand.

"Here!" She offered. "I figured I might as well get what I came here for in the first place."

Daryl quirked an eyebrow at her and took the ice cream from her. "Thanks," he mumbled, confused as to whether this had just turned into a date. He drowned the thought with a gulp of beer.

"May I?" Gabby asked, gesturing towards the tailgate.

"Uh, yeah," Daryl stammered. He stared at her dumbly as she held out her hand before it clicked in his brain what she was waiting for. He tentatively reached out towards her and she clasped his hand as she hopped up onto the tailgate beside him. He pulled his hand away as if burnt and shifted away from her.

If Gabby noticed his squeamishness, she didn't give any indication of it as she tore open the packaging and taking a bite of her ice cream. "I'm gonna be is so much trouble for this, but I don't care," she mused as she picked off a chunk of the chocolate coating and popped it in her mouth.

"Fer eatin' ice cream?" Daryl asked, incredulously. "Damn, good thing you didn't take the beer. Woulda been a one way ticket straight ta hell."

Gabby giggled. "Seriously, I'm going to pay for this," she insisted. "My dance instructor outlined this crazy strict diet for me, and ice cream is definitely not on it. Along with butter, refined sugars, dairy and white bread."

"Shit, three outa four. You badass," Daryl teased as he finished off the second can of beer. He felt himself relaxing around her and he took a bite of his ice cream. He hadn't had one of those in years and forgot how good they were. "Why you on a diet anyway? Ya look good." He blushed slightly and cast a sideways glance at Gabby, trying to read her body language for any indication that he toed out of the line. He felt a wave of relief wash over him to see that she hadn't recoiled in horror from his compliment, no matter how weak it was.

"Well, if you could tell my dance instructor that, I'd sure appreciate it," Gabby said. "She says I'm built like a linebacker, not a dancer.

"But that's okay," she continued brightly, after noticing Daryl fell uncomfortably silent. "I'll show her when I get to Julliard."

"Isn't it that fancy school up north?" Daryl asked, grateful for the turn in conversation.

Gabby nodded. "Yep, New York City," she replied. "What about you? What's your plans after high school? Going to college?"

Daryl snorted. "Hell no, Dixons aren't made for fancy educations and shit."

"There's a first time for everything," Gabby offered as she finished off the last bite of the cone.

"Ain't smart enough," Daryl mumbled. His demeanor changed then from relaxed to annoyed. "Thanks fer the ice cream, but I gotta get goin'." He reached in his breast pocket for his pack of smokes and lit up another cigarette. He hopped off the tail gate and stared at the girl expectantly. He saw the confusion clouding her grey eyes and she slid off the tail gate slowly.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean anything by it," Gabby said.

"See ya around," Daryl responded, not meeting her gaze as he rounded the back of the truck to the driver's side. Without a further glance, he slid in the driver's seat and slammed the door. Gabby's stunned look was illuminated by the red brake lights as Daryl fired up the engine and reversed the truck out of the parking spot, carefully maneuvering around the shocked girl. The tires on the old truck squealed in protest as he put the truck in Drive and sped out of the parking lot.

* * *

It was the following Monday after Gabby had run into Daryl at Smitty's Convenience. The encounter left her feeling confused and more than a little disappointed. There was something about Daryl Dixon that had peaked her interest. He was the perfect mix of wild, rough-edged bad boy meets wounded, sweet puppy that needed to be approached with a gentle hand so he wouldn't cower away. There was something about Daryl that had her thinking about him since the day she had seen him at the lake with Cassie. They shared Math class together and she had never noticed until now how blue his eyes were, how starkly they contrasted with his tanned skin.

That Monday morning, Gabby Flanery finally admitted to herself that she had a crush on Daryl Dixon. She knew she shouldn't. She was all-american, he was riffraff that lived on the outer edges of the values she was raised with. He also made it clear that past Saturday that he wasn't interested in her; but he had said that she looked good. That had to count for something, right?

Gabby groaned inwardly as she caught herself dissecting their meeting on Saturday night, analyzing every word he said, every glance cast her way, desperate for some sort of sign that told her he reciprocated the attraction she felt for him. She heard the car horn blare from outside that signaled Cassie's arrival. Gabby sighed and tried to smooth down her wild, wavy dark hair before admitting defeat and grabbing her backpack from its spot beside her bedroom door.

She trotted down the stairs and gave her father a kiss on the cheek as he drank his coffee, poring over the morning newspaper. "Have a good day at school, sweetie," he said, not glancing up from the newsprint.

She sprinted down the steps of the porch and towards Cassie's Precidia. Her friend got the small sports car for her sweet sixteen present and she was made the designated chauffeur amongst their friends.

"Sorry I'm late," Gabby breathed as she slid into the passenger seat.

Cassie was looking into the small mirror on the driver side visor and wiped away a smudged line from her lipstick. "No biggie," she shrugged. "I've only Gym class first period, anyway. What did you do this weekend?"

"Nothing," Gabby replied, as the blonde backed out of the gravel driveway. "I just went to Smitty's for an ice cream." Gabby left it at that, even though she desperately wanted to share her experience with Daryl and get another opinion on the situation. She could only imagine Cassie's horrified reaction to her confession of liking Daryl Dixon. Their run-in with him at the lake had Cassie convinced he was a disgusting neanderthal. Gabby stared out the window at the passing landscape as they drove towards the high school, listening idly as Cassie bantered on about her date with Russell Stevens.

When they arrived at the school, Gabby hurried down the hallway towards Math class. The bell had rung five minutes ago, and she was hoping she caught Mrs. Whitney on a good day, so she wouldn't get detention for being late. She had her doubts that she'd be so lucky. Her math teacher was a miserable shrew who seemingly hated her job, and existed solely to ruin every teenager's life that had the unfortunate luck to wind up in her class. Maybe that was why Daryl's presence was so scarce in that class, having been on the receiving end of the teacher's wrath on numerous occasions. She rolled her eyes at herself as she caught herself thinking about Daryl again as she pushed open the door.

"Miss Flanery, so glad you could join us," Mrs. Whitney chirped.

Gabby winced as she closed the door quietly behind her and slunk towards her seat, feeling the eyes of her classmates boring into her. One of those sets of eyes was a pair of piercing blue ones belonging to Daryl Dixon that observed her from the back of the class. She felt the blush warm her cheeks as she slumped down in her seat.

"I hope you didn't have any plans after school," Mrs. Whitney said. "Because you'll be joining me in detention."

"Yes, ma'am," Gabby mumbled, as she slumped low in her seat.

* * *

Daryl didn't know why he bothered reporting to detention. He tossed his ratty school bag to the floor and slid into the seat attached to the desk. He supposed it was because his recent absences from school had once again alerted the school officials to stick their damn bureaucratic noses in his business again. They wanted to check in at home, and the last time they did that, it resulted in a visit from Child Services. The resulting ass-kicking from his father was almost as bad as the time he got caught stealing bread from the Piggly Wiggly when he was 10. He was caught by a new employee who had gone ahead and called the Sheriff, even though old Ms. Ferguson had arranged to turn a blind eye to his shoplifting. The elderly cashier had been the first person to catch him stealing food when he was 8 years old, shortly after his mother died. After taking him to the employee's lounge and seeing the filth and bruises that littered his arms, she gave him a knowing smile and sent him on his way.

His father wasn't so mad about the stealing part, as he was about the interruption to his drinking when he had to pick Daryl up from the supermarket after the police called him. He also accused Daryl's theft as the reason why "the fuzz stickin' their damn pig noses where they don't belong." Even Merle had agreed with Ol' Will Dixon on that. Though Merle would've never condoned the lashing Daryl got as soon as he took off with his friends, leaving him at the mercy of their father.

He was doodling idly on his notepad when he heard the classroom door open. He looked up and saw Gabby Flanery enter the room and stride gracefully towards the last remaining seat, next to his. She seemed to be making a pointed effort to not return his gaze and Daryl assumed she was pissed about his abrupt send-off on Saturday night. He hadn't meant to be a prick, but she was trying to tap into something that he had long given up on. The dumb broad had the idea that he could be the first Dixon to go to college? Fuck her and her bullshit after-school-special life.

He scowled to himself as the lead from his pencil snapped off. He tossed it on the desk and it rolled onto the floor with a faint clatter. He swore under his breath and leaned down to retrieve it. It wasn't until his head collided with the one beside him that he realized Gabby had went to retrieve it for him.

He swore under his breath and placed his hand over the tender part of his skull. Gabby was rubbing the large red mark on her forehead. They both stared at each other in shock and after a few moments, the girl burst into a fit of giggles as she held the broken pencil out for him. Mrs. Whitney, who was in charge of detention, cleared her throat loudly in warning.

Daryl smiled in spite of himself and nodded his thanks as he grabbed the useless writing utensil, his fingers accidentally brushing hers. He felt tiny little jolts erupt from their brief contact and he quickly pulled away, staring down at the scribbles on his notepad, feeling his cheeks grow warm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Gabby bite her lip as she fought back a grin as she started laying out her homework on her desk.

He dug around in his backpack for another pencil, using the opportunity to give the girl an appraising once-over. She had a graceful, athletic build about her that he summed up to the result of her dance classes. She was small and lithe, but not a scrawny waif of a thing that most girls were, or tried to be. Despite her athletic build, she still had the soft curves of a woman, and she somehow managed to avoid the awkward growth spurts that seemed to plague most teenagers. Even Daryl grew upward faster than he did outward. Merle had come home for the first time in months and about laughed himself to tears after seeing Daryl's lanky form.

"Mr. Dixon, I don't know what it is you find so interesting about Miss Flanery, but I assume you have homework to do?" Mrs. Whitney called from the front of the room. "I seem to recall that you haven't yet handed in your geometry assignment from last week."

The other students laughed loudly. Mortified, Daryl sunk lower in his chair, wishing to disappear, or to be smited with lightening right there on the spot. He gave up his hunt for a pencil and resigned himself to studying his scribbled notebook for the remainder of the detention.

* * *

It was raining as Daryl flicked his cigarette butt to the ground and made his way towards the school parking lot towards his truck. The old Chevy's driver's side door creaked loudly in protest as he pulled it open. He shook his hair out like a dog as he turned the key in the ignition, the old engine roaring to life. He drummed his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of Alice in Chains blaring out of the speakers. He slowed down as he reached the mouth of the school parking lot and noticed a figure walking towards the crosswalk.

Large grey eyes peered at him from the other side of the windshield. It was Gabby. The girl he got caught checking out in detention. The girl he was such a dick to over the weekend, when she actually was nice to him. Nobody was nice to him for no reason. Hell, even Merle was an asshole to him most of the time. He couldn't remember the last he talked to his brother without him being called "Darylina" or being called a pussy, whenever he turned down an offer of Crystal Meth. Some days Merle would rant for hours about how his "baby brother thinks he's better than me" until he either passed out or he finally realized that Daryl had long left the room.

When Merle was sober, however rare that occasion was, he would talk about him and Daryl packing up and leaving the small town in North Georgia where they lived. Get away from their father and find a small place near the woods so Daryl could still hunt. Him and Merle would find work somewhere and it would be "you an' me, Darylina, agains' tha world."

Daryl had long since given up on that pipe dream when he realized the drugs had a stranglehold on his older brother. Whenever Merle brought up that fantasy, Daryl would listen and humour him, but too many disappointments told him to never get his hopes up.

Daryl sighed as he wound down the driver side window. "Hey!" He called out to the drenched girl who had made it to the other side of the crosswalk. He figured giving her a ride was harmless enough, and it would help him make amends for being such an asshole to her on Saturday night.

Gabby turned around, looking waterlogged and miserable, and Daryl fought back a laugh as he took in the sight. "Wanna ride?" He watched as she looked down the road ahead of her for a moment in consideration before she ran to the passenger side of the truck, pulling open the stiff door with some effort and climbing in.

"Thanks," She said gratefully.

Daryl smirked at her as his eyes scanned over her rain soaked form. Her long dark hair hung in strings and her eye makeup left dark streaks over her pronounced cheekbones down to her chin. Daryl couldn't help himself as he let out a low laugh.

"What?" Gabby asked, confused. She was leaning forward and wringing out her hair.

"You look like a wet poodle," Daryl laughed. He watched as her expression changed from puzzled to horrified and he silently cursed himself for saying the wrong thing. "Shit. I didn't mean it like that. I ain't so good with people..." He rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly as his voice trailed off. He relieved to see her smile gently at him as she wiped away the makeup from under her eyes.

"I'm sorry about the other night," Gabby said, as she combed through the tangles of her hair with her fingers.

Daryl was relieved when she made no mention of the incident in detention. Hell, even when he got called out, she didn't join in the laughter of their peers, though he did notice her cheeks had turned a pretty pink colour as she worked on her homework. "Ain't gotta apologize," Daryl mumbled, taking a left out of the school parking lot. "Where we goin'?"

"Do you want to grab a coffee?" Gabby asked. "I was supposed to go to Cassie's after school but it looks like she took off when I was in detention, so I have a few hours to kill before I have to go home."

Daryl was chewing at his thumb as he considered the offer. "Why the hell not?" He said, finally. He caught Gabby's wide grin when he accepted her offer and returned it with a small one.

He was in trouble.

* * *

_Whew! That was long-winded! But hopefully this makes up for my slow updates. :)_


	19. Chapter 17: Stubborn Love

_A/N: For my regular reviewers, you are awesome. Seriously. The only reason I still spend my free time writing this is because of you._

**Chapter 17: Stubborn Love**

_"It's better to feel pain, than nothing at all;_

_The opposite of love's indifference._

_So pay attention now, I'm standing on your porch screaming out,_

_And I won't leave until you come downstairs_

_So keep your head up, keep your love,_

_Keep your head up, my love,_

_Keep your head up, keep your love._

_And I don't blame you dear for running like you did all these years,_

_I would do the same, you'd best believe._

_And the highway signs say we're close, but I don't read those things anymore,_

_I never trusted my own eyes."_

_- Stubborn Love - The Lumineers_

Daryl sat on the wooden chest and rested his forehead against the cool glass of the large window in the master bedroom. The rain pounded against the panes and matched the rapid rhythm of his heart. He chewed at his thumbnail pensively as he considered what he had just done, what he still _wanted to do_. He removed his hand from his mouth, placing it on his knees before anxiously raising it again to his teeth. He didn't have to steal a glance to know that Gabby remained on the bed where he had left her. She had sat up from the supine position she was in, but she remained in the very spot that he had kissed her.

He mentally cursed himself for pulling the 'chute like he had. His internal panic button had been pushed, just like it did every time he was about to enjoy himself. When he was a teenager, being with Gabby had silenced the alarms. It had been so easy with her. She was so patient, yet so eager to prove to him that he was worth something. Losing her had left him gutted and he had never allowed himself to lower his defenses since.

The kiss replayed itself over and over again in his head, as he tried to consider it from all angles. _She_ had initiated it, right? Well, her kiss was closed-mouthed and chaste, and he just went and shoved his tongue down her throat like some horny teenager on his first date. Hell, his experience with women was limited to his teenaged relationship with Gabby and whatever broad at the bar looked decent enough to keep his bed warm. He had standards, of course. They couldn't be so drunk that they weren't accountable for their actions, and they sure as hell couldn't have been any of Merle's sloppy seconds. His brother's amoxicillin prescription was practically on standby at the Rexall Pharmacy on account of his propensity to acquire chlamydia. That did leave Daryl with slim pickings, but he only looked for company a couple times a year.

Daryl hissed as a piece of cuticle ripped too far down his thumb, drawing a small, bright red bead of blood. He licked it away and forced himself to lower his hand, tucking his thumb into his fist to resist the temptation to gnaw at it again as his mental battle over Gabby continued to wage in his mind.

_Fuck it,_ he thought. Before he could talk himself out of it, he rose to his feet and crossed the room in two long strides. Alarmed, Gabby jumped to her feet, her grey eyes wide and her hair disheveled. She opened her mouth to speak but was cut off by Daryl's mouth crashing against hers. She let out a surprised whimper and he smiled against her lips. He could get used to that.

He allowed his calloused hands to travel up her slender arms and over her shoulders, lingering at the sharp curves at the base of her neck before travelling upwards into the dark, silky waves of her hair. He could feel his heart pounding against his chest as he relished how comfortable and exhilarated he felt kissing Gabby. She felt so soft and smelled exactly the way he remembered her smelling.

Her arms moved up and over his shoulders, wrapping tightly around his neck as she pulled him closer. He felt the sharp pinch of her teeth against his bottom lip and groaned appreciatively. He untangled his fingers from Gabby's hair and allowed them to travel back down the slopes of her neck, the heels of his hands grazing the top of her collarbone as he traced the silhouette of her shoulders before sliding off course to her ribcage. He allowed his thumbs to graze the soft swell of the side of her breasts as his hands took a wandering path down her torso, finding their resting spot on the curves of her hips.

Daryl broke their kiss long enough to pivot around and push her towards the bed. He felt the bed frame hit his toes and he gently nudged Gabby down on the mattress, grazing his teeth across her jawline as he climbed over her. He maneuvered his right arm underneath her and deftly rolled her over so that she straddled his waist.

His mouth and hands moved frantically against her, roaming over the dip of the small of her back, and ducking under the hem of her tank top, her sighs encouraging him along. He felt her pull away and he moved to sit up, protesting the lack of contact between them. His words never made it off his tongue as he caught the coy smile playing across her lips as she sat up. His eyes followed her hands as they cross themselves and grabbed the hem of her shirt, slowly, _teasingly_ pulling the thin fabric up over her navel. His breath hitched in his throat when she paused with the shirt just under her breasts. He could see the fabric covered underwire of her bra. He reached forward, silently urging her along.

Gabby took the hint and yanked the shirt over her head.

Daryl let out a surprised yell as he watched as Gabby's flawless skin and perfect face disintegrate into gray, mottled chunks of decayed flesh. Her swollen lips torn away, exposing rotted gums and blackened teeth. She lunged forward, growling menacingly as her teeth gnashed at his jugular. He clawed desperately at her, his hands finding limp, stringy hair in what once was a thick, wavy mane. He felt the hair break free from Gabby's scalp and he gagged. She was impossibly strong, his arms shaking with strain as she bore down on him, brown slime trickling from her mouth and landing on his cheek. With a final gasp, his arms gave out and his neck seared with white-hot pain.

* * *

Milton Mamet sighed and used his middle knuckle to push his round-framed glasses further up the bridge of his nose. He tapped his pen impatiently on the neatly written pages of his logs. He couldn't concentrate, despite the past week being eventful, too eventful. He had more than enough material for the Woodbury record books, but writing it down only made Phillip's psychological demise that much more clearly. This is not how he pictured the reconstruction of civilization.

Logically, he knew he shouldn't have been surprised by the way things have taken its turn with the confrontation with the prison. Human history was marred by territorial wars and religious disputes of monumental proportions as seen with Israel and Palestine, two countries at war over the "Holy land" for decades, until the very day the dead began to walk. He found himself wondering if this was God's punishment; then dismissing the ridiculous notion as quickly as it popped into his brain. He was a man of science.

He knew he had one chance to reach Phillip, even if it meant disobeying his leader's orders of keeping Andrea in the dark about what happened the night of the attack. She had told them about her and Merle being from the same group before they both got left behind. She, too, had expressed her concern for Phillip since the attack on the town, since Penny was finally dead. Milton knew she hadn't fully bought the fact that Merle had defected, but her ignorance to the situation gave her no other choice.

He capped his pen and closed the journal and placed them neatly in the drawer of his desk. Tomorrow, the veil that Andrea was under would be lifted.

* * *

Daryl was drenched with sweat when he finally managed to coax his eyes open. He was lying on the floor, gasping for air. His lungs constricted painfully in his chest as he fought for breath. Through blurred vision, he watched as a figure lowered itself towards him and he reached his arms up feebly to push it away.

"Daryl?"

The voice sounded hollow, echoing in the cochleae of his ears.

"Daryl?"

The figure was closer now and he stopped fighting it, his arms falling limply beside him. His breathing slowed down and he wondered if this was what dying felt like. His panic began to ease into a quiet understanding and he waited for the darkness to overtake him. His eyelids felt heavy and he conceded to their weight.

A sharp, stinging pain erupted across his face and his eyes flew open. He felt his lungs fill with oxygen as he took in a large gasp of air. His vision was beginning to clear and he saw Gabby's face hovering inches above his. He could feel her breath tickling his lips, could smell the soft scent of coconut and something flowery from her dark hair fell over her face like curtains.

"Daryl?" Gabby said again, her voice gentle and full of concern. "You were dreaming."

At those words, understanding quickly overtook the fog Daryl was in. He felt his cheeks grow hot and he scooted backwards across the floor to get away from the woman kneeling over him. He must have fallen asleep while on watch. With a quick glance of his surroundings, he spotted his crossbow leaning against the far wall beside the window where he had left it.

"What time's it?" He muttered, pulling himself to his feet.

"It's morning…barely," Gabby replied.

Daryl cast his eyes toward the window and saw the darkness slowly yielding to the sun. "Should get goin'," he muttered as he climbed to his feet. He ignored Gabby's concerned stare as he shouldered his crossbow and headed for the bathroom.

* * *

The sun beat down on Daryl as he reached up and grabbed the edges of the earth by his head, hoisting himself out of the grave. Swiveling around, he sat on the edge and allowed his feet to dangle down into the crudely dug hole. He knew he shouldn't have bothered, that it wasted precious time he no longer had, but he just had to give the baby and her momma a proper burial. Even if it was a long time since they were a baby and a momma. Digging the grave was cathartic, as all his pent up emotions ended up melting away with every shovel-full of earth.

He tensed as he felt the warm skin of Gabby's arm brush his as she sat down beside him. He liked that she wasn't a woman who felt the need to nag him about his feelings, or expect him to coddle her while she expressed hers. What they saw... What he did was fucked up. The images of the events the night before replayed in his mind like he was on a demented carousel. He sure as hell didn't need, or want to talk about it.

He thought back to the kiss, the beacon that guided him through the sea of shit in the past 24 hours. He had tried to ignore the way his lips tingled when he had finally come to his senses and pulled away. He hadn't wanted to. After all those years, kissing Gabby was easy. It was wonderfully familiar and comfortable, yet exhilarating. His chest pressed against hers, feeling the pounding of her heartbeat underneath him. He wouldn't have been able to stop if he had carried on any longer.

And then there was the dream. What the fuck was that about?

He didn't want her like that - all caught up in emotion, doing things she wouldn't otherwise do. She is married after all, he reminded himself. No need to get too carried away and have her regretting it. Hell, _he_ would regret it. He wasn't Merle. He didn't believe in treading on another man's territory, even if the other man was a douchebag.

He sighed as he slid back from the hole and climbed to his feet. It was just as well. With the Woodbury threat, he needed to keep his mind clear and he sure as hell wasn't doing that thinking about how soft Gabby's skin was, or the way she smelled like coconut and wild flowers...

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath. He quickly glanced at Gabby, who was busy wiping the dirt from the back of her jeans and didn't appear to hear him. "Better get this finished up, so we can get goin'," he said.

Andrea placed her mug in the sink in Phillip's row house. She would clean it later. Placing two hands on the edge of the stainless steel sink, she noticed a figure standing on the ground below, peering at the house at the window and she jumped. Placing a hand over her heart, she calmed herself when she realized it was only Milton. She smiled slightly and gave him a small wave. He gave her a small nod and hesitated slightly before walking up to the doorway. She heard the sharp, methodical knocks and since she had been on her way to the front door, opened it immediately.

The man on the other side of the door fidgeted slightly, and pushed his glasses further onto his nose with his knuckle. He smiled weakly at her and waited for her to invite him in.

"Is Phillip here?" Milton asked after declining a cup of tea. The man looked clearly uneasy, and was scanning the room behind Andrea.

The blonde woman frowned. "No, I haven't seen him since this morning. I can tell him you were looking-"

"No," Milton interrupted, quickly. "I - I came here to talk to you, actually."

Andrea furrowed her eyebrows in confusion. "Okay," she said slowly. "What is this about, Milton?"

Milton took a deep breath and looked towards the front door appraisingly, as if ensuring it was still there to make his escape. After a few moments, he seemed to gather the courage that had eluded him. "It's about the attack on the town." He paused and cast another uneasy glance over his shoulder. "I'm not supposed to tell you this."

* * *

Gabby placed the last of the supplies she and Daryl had collected from the house in the back of the SUV before rounding to the passenger side. She gave the house a final glance as she pulled open the car door, catching Daryl's gaze from the other side of the vehicle before they both climbed in. The trip had not gone the way they had planned and she could see the toll it took on Daryl. His steely, blue eyes were hardened, but his face was weary, and her heart ached for him. She wanted to collect him in her arms and do anything she could to relieve the burden he felt. She knew he felt like a failure. Without weapons to defend themselves, the group at the prison would have little choice but to evacuate, which would leave them exposed to the dangers of the undead. Her vision blurred with tears and she forced herself to stare out the window so Daryl wouldn't see the drops trickling down her cheekbones.

On a more selfish note, Gabby felt confused by Daryl's actions the night before. She could no longer deny that the connection and the attraction she had with Daryl when she was a teenager had come back with a vengeance. Perhaps it was the fact that living now was literally day-to-day. Her close call at the house only reiterated that fact. There was some semblance of normalcy within the walls of Woodbury, but she knew now it was a lie. The people inside those walls were just as dangerous as the dead things outside of them. She worried for Travis, and hoped that The Governor wouldn't punish him for her actions, that he had no idea that Gabby had sprung the Dixon brothers from Woodbury.

Who was she kidding? She had no idea what she was doing as she was doing it. She had acted on pure instinct out of disgust and horror at the situation. She couldn't believe that the people she had gotten to know during her time there would condone, hell, even demand the Dixon brothers' blood. Then she had to remind herself that they weren't aware of the context of the attack on the town.

They had been driving for a few miles when Gabby noticed a sign advertising Senoia as being 5 miles away. The arrow was pointing north, and maybe they could risk the stop? Perhaps there was a hunting store or police station or something that survived the looters and could redeem this failed run. She turned her head to look at Daryl and his eyes told her he was thinking the same thing. Gabby pulled out the map from the glove compartment and confirmed it was "uncharted territory" from the outline that Merle had provided. Daryl slowed the SUV and made the right turn towards Senoia.

The ride was quiet and the tension hung thickly in the air, mirroring the humidity of the hot summer day. Gabby had stolen a few glances at the man driving beside her, one hand on the steering wheel, the other at his mouth, his teeth working away at the cuticle around his thumb. Daryl kept his eyes trained on the road ahead, and Gabby tried not to be offended by the unnatural way his eyes avoided hers. She turned her gaze to the passing landscape outside the window, trying to ignore the memory of the kiss she had shared with Daryl the night before, and the complicated web of emotions it had invoked in her.

There was guilt, of course. Though it had been a long time since her marriage to Travis had been a happy one, she still had been too cowardly to end it when she should have, long before the dead had begun to walk. Maybe it was the idea of failure, or the even more pathetic fear of loneliness that enticed her to stay with her husband, despite the humiliation of his wandering eye.

The kiss she shared with Daryl also caused surge of emotions she had worked hard to placate since the day her relationship with him had ended. The sharp notes of Sheryl Crow singing, _'the first cut is the deepest' _popped into her head as she thought back to that morning at the lake with Daryl. They hadn't _officially_ broken up, at least not in the traditional sense. She had snuck out of her room a few nights after the confrontation between Daryl and her father and walked all the way across town to Daryl's run-down mobile home in hopes of apologizing to him.

No one had answered the door and she had chalked it up to Daryl having gone hunting to blow off steam. When she had tried again a few days later, she had a terrifying encounter with a drunk Will Dixon that scared her off of trying his house again. She moved on to their spot on the lake, hoping to catch Daryl after a successful hunt, although he had stopped cleaning his kills there once they began using it for their dates. Gabby had insisted she didn't mind, but he shrugged it off and told her that Gabby's friend Cassie had likely tipped off the sheriff about his hunting, and he didn't want to deal with the fines that came with hunting without a license. Despite that, Gabby still frequented the spot, holding out the hope that maybe Daryl had missed her enough to stop by there for the same reasons she did.

Gabby felt a sudden surge of anger towards Daryl at the memory. He had left her waiting pathetically for him at the lake, wasting away her final summer in that small Georgia town. Her bitter thoughts returned to the kiss the night before and the disgusted way he had pulled away from her and the icy way he treated her today.

Before she could descend too far into her anger, she saw a small building that nearly made her jump out her seat.

The weathered "Senoia Sheriff's Department" sign was half-blocked by an abandoned Dodge Ram, but there it was, as clear as day.

This was the break they were looking for.


End file.
